


Atlantis 2020: Projects

by Seaward



Series: Atlantis 2020 [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Cultural Differences, Don't copy to another site, Families of Choice, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, M/M, Medical Conditions, Nonbinary Character, Robots, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 77,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaward/pseuds/Seaward
Summary: As the Lanteans set out to play a more active role within the Pegasus Network of Healers, they encounter accusations as well as local and historical issues that are more complex than they expected. All sorts of relationships develop, get complicated, and lead to plenty of good food and good touching.
Relationships: Carson Beckett/Ronon Dex, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Series: Atlantis 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625404
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, these two (long) stories are all I currently foresee writing in this verse. However, I explored another possibility with the John and Rodney relationship, that I didn't end up using. So it's basically an AU from this AU that I'm posting as a stand-alone series titled "Innovative Designs," but if you'd like more grounding around a story that's basically smut with a little bit of fluff and feels, I think you'll have that grounding after reading either one or both of the stories in this universe. 
> 
> Also, I wasn't sure whether to warn for one mention of COVID-19 since it is basically included to dodge around the topic in this AU. My first story in this universe, while dealing with a contagious disease and broader medical issues, was originally written for NaNoWriMo 2019 and most of the plot for this sequel was planned before I'd even heard about COVID-19. So while this second story deals with an outbreak of a respiratory virus, it isn't meant to have any connection to reality. (If anything, I softened those aspects a bit, because that's not something I felt like writing about right now.)
> 
> Finally, thanks to Elayna for reading all of it, no matter what sort of stories I threw her way. As usual, I tinkered with the final draft, and all remaining mistakes are mine.

Carson stood in the Gate room to see Healer Taran and the others off. It was their first mission back to Lo Seco since vaccinating everyone there for the Bad Blood virus and evacuating critical cases. After four Earth-length weeks back on Atlantis, Carson was much stronger, rarely needing a wheelchair but using a walker when on his own. Today Hanso rolled beside him just in case, blinking three lights when anyone greeted them.

"Don't you fuss. I'll be back by dinner and tell you all about it." Taran once again wore the yellow garb associated with healers on several Pegasus worlds and a long dark braid looped around her head like when they'd first met. Both of them showed far more gray than on that day many years before. Since then, Taran and Carson had helped name and formalize the Pegasus Network of Healers, a group Carson had supported since before the eradication of the Wraith.

Carson rested a hand on Taran's shoulder as he said, "I respect Khun Somchai's decision, but I still believe seeing my recovery from the Bad Blood in person would convince people in a way no video can."

Ronon stepped closer and brushed a hand down Carson's back, warm and reassuring. He didn't need words to say he'd miss Carson but felt better knowing his new—roommate? lover? forever family?—whatever they wanted to call their relationship, would be safe at home on Atlantis. His team was escorting Taran back to Tan Po, so she could tell others about Danisius' successful kidney transplant. She might also broach the idea of setting up a dialysis center on Tan Po, since they would probably have the most local need even with the new vaccinations and treatments for Bad Blood.

Carson couldn't help but smile at Ronon's touch and Taran's reassurance.

Bustling in at the last minute, as usual, Rodney waved his tablet muttering. "Stop fussing over Carson, and let's get this stupid escort duty over with. I have real work to do, and my minions aren't going to disparage themselves."

With that and a stern look from Cirillo through the window walls of the expedition commander's office, they dialed up the Stargate.

#

"Halt, Tan Po is closed to visitors due to epidemic." The woman shouting at Rodney and his team wore a dirty robe with what might once have been yellow fringe beneath an armored helmet that covered everything from nose to neck.

Behind her a man with a similar helmet and a muscular build that Rodney couldn't forget, since he'd intimidated Rodney almost as much as Ronon on first meeting, called out, "They are the ones who brought the disease with their so-called immunizations!"

A youthful figure beside him threw a stone that hit John in the leg, causing Rodney, but not John, to wince. Rodney wondered if it was part of being in a relationship that his own physical awareness had expanded to include John's body even in non-intimate settings. John only drawled, "Hey, no need for that."

Teyla cut in before John could say anything incautious. "I assure you we shared medicines in good faith. We have all taken the same immunizations without ill effect. If you tell us of your trouble, perhaps we can help."

"We do not want your help. We have asked you to leave." The woman who had spoken first held one palm outward facing them and another toward the youth who had thrown the stone.

"I am Healer Taran. I work here and would consult with my colleagues." When the unwelcoming committee only glared at her, Taran pulled a bundle of stoppered test tubes from the bag she carried. "As a service to the entire Network of Healers, I leave these with a request to my colleagues to collect samples of blood and saliva from those suffering. I will return at local dusk." She glanced at the position of the sun and shadows, as if forgetting the technology on Atlantis that tracked planetary time systems. "If they wish to include notes that might benefit others, I will bring material for safe handling and storage."

As Taran set the test tubes on the ground at her feet, John gave Ronon an inscrutable look. Rodney only inferred it meant 'Ronon should dial the Gate for the alpha site without turning his back on the locals' when Ronon proceeded to do just that, his other hand resting on his blaster the entire time.

#

Madison made their way to the mess hall and sat down with a tray full of soup, salad, and Belusian cheese rolls, having ended their basement office hours before Murderbot or any of the other BotKin could insist that BioKin needed to eat lunch, especially after skipping breakfast. Everyone else in their chosen family had either eaten before Madison woke up that morning or wasn't organic and didn't need food. And for some reason they didn't have Cheerios in the penthouse kitchen or anywhere on Atlantis. Hence, the skipping breakfast.

The bright orange soup that Madison had chosen because it was marked vegetarian, turned out to be rich and starchy. On Earth it might have contained sweet potatoes and carrots, but whatever they used here tasted more like beets and peppers with a hint of lime. When Madison dipped in a cheese roll and took a bite, their toes tapped in pleasure.

"May I join you?" The voice startled Madison, but they quickly matched the sound and the spiky blond hair to identify Jake from their writing group. He talked a lot and didn't seem to write much, but Madison wasn't one to judge.

"Sure."

Jake took the chair across from Madison and set down a tray heaped with sandwich meat but no bread and the same soup Madison had chosen. "Any good?" he asked, gesturing to both bowls of soup and Madison's half dipped roll.

"I like it. You don't know what's in it, do you?" Madison tried to make conversation.

"Not a clue. I'm pretty new here myself."

Madison vaguely remembered that he was a chemist or maybe a chemical engineer, about ten years older than Madison, so late 20s, and had graduated from Georgia Tech. That might have been for his Bachelors rather than Doctorate. Madison only remembered because it was part of a joke about schools that ended in "Tech" having beavers, birds, or bulldogs as mascots, except for Georgia Tech, which had a yellow jacket. Madison was wondering if they should try to share the joke as part of making conversation, but it wasn't the sort of thing they did easily or quickly.

"It's really interesting having you and Murderbot in the writing group," Jake said. "Did you use they/them pronouns before you started working with bots here?'

"Not all BotKin use they/them pronouns," Madison answered before unpacking the rest of the question, which didn't make logical or causal sense to them. "None of us have changed pronouns since we met."

"So even if some of them use other pronouns, do you think being nonbinary helps you relate to them? I mean, not that I think you have actual relationships with them. I mean, do you?" Jake hadn't touched his food, and kept trying to make eye contact in a way Madison didn't like.

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'actual relationships.'" Madison set down their roll, not comfortable eating the way they had been before Jake sat down. "Murderbot is my friend. I don't think genders matter to that, and I concluded within a few days that they were sentient and probably better at communicating and socializing than I am."

"You seem fine at communicating and socializing to me." Jake smiled and his foot tapped Madison's under the table.

Madison tucked their feet under their chair and said, "Thanks." Then they picked up their fork and dug into their salad, content to let Jake carry the conversation until they could finish eating and politely leave.

Luckily, Carson came to their rescue saying, "Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to Madison rather urgently, if you don't mind."

When Jake said, "Go ahead," and waved to another seat, Carson only frowned.

Finishing the last bite of salad in their mouth, Madison tucked the remaining half roll onto the saucer for their soup bowl and said, "I can bring this with me if you want."

"Lovely," Carson said.

Madison managed a quick "bye" to Jake as they cleared their tray and then followed Carson to the same nearby meeting room where Rodney had once brought them cupcakes to celebrate their graduation. It had a single long table and a lovely view of the ocean that Madison couldn't appreciate at present. "Is something wrong?" they asked as they set down their soup and took a seat.

Maneuvering his walker as if he'd been using it for months rather than days, Carson settled into the chair across from them. "I didn't want you to panic from whatever rumors might arise, but your Uncle Rodney, his team, and Healer Taran are all in quarantine. Guards met them at the Gate on Tan Po, warning them away from an epidemic there. At least a couple of the guards seemed to blame the Bad Blood immunizations for starting the epidemic."

Madison's first thought was 'not again,' since their uncle's team had been in quarantine when Madison first arrived on Atlantis. Then they couldn't help asking in rapid succession, "Is that even possible? Is it lethal? What are the symptoms?"

"Slow down," Carson said, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward. "Most likely the timing is coincidental, but we can't rule out local interactions, either environmental or genetic with the vaccine. However, Dr. Biro, Khun Somchai, and two bots checked for any risk factors ahead of time." It was only then that Madison realized Hanso wasn't present, probably working on this very problem. "We're hoping to have samples and more information in a few hours. The people guarding the Gate showed no obvious symptoms and didn't offer any specifics. I wanted to assure you that your uncle and the others will all be fine and quarantine is merely a precaution to protect the wider community."

Madison actually looked at Carson's face, read his expression, met his eyes, zeroed in on the tight lines at the corners. He wasn't really trying to hide his own worry. After all, Ronon was in quarantine too. Carson and Madison were the only two BioKin in their pseudo-family not in quarantine, and even the bots weren't around right now. "Don't worry, Earth had a crash course in community health, including various quarantines, isolation, and social distancing measures before I left. We can cope with this."

Raising his eyebrows above his glasses, Carson said, "I may be more out of touch with recent history than I realized. Would you mind catching me up a bit?"

So Madison told him about COVID-19. Most of the stories were things they'd read online. As a computer science grad student who'd lived like a hermit even before the pandemic, they hadn't been that dramatically affected. When immunizations and new treatments had become available at the end of April, they hadn't thought to wonder if alien tech was involved, now it seemed to explain a lot.

As distractions went, it wasn't an ideal topic. But as a doctor and Earthling, Carson listened attentively and asked occasional questions. And tales of homemade hand sanitizer and lines a block long to buy toilet paper at dawn were somewhat humorous in retrospect.

#

For their return to Tan Po, the entire team and Healer Taran wore bright yellow biohazard suits. The healer had even attached a yellow band to Hanso's top neck-like appendage, claiming it would mark him as a healer's assistant. That made Ronon chuckle for some reason. Rodney had taken the much more useful precaution of shielding the BotKin's primary and secondary processing and memory units, effectively black boxing them so even a grenade couldn't destroy whatever sentience Hanso may have developed.

They came through the Gate on the early edge of dusk. The sun barely touched the horizon behind them, causing the Gate to cast a long shadow in front of them that fell over the four guards. As far as Rodney could tell, from his position at the back of the group, they were the same four who had greeted them several hours before.

This time, Healer Taran spoke first. "Greetings. I hope you are all well and have had time to convey my request for samples to the other healers."

"No one is giving you anything. You have broken our trust and deserve no cooperation." The leader of the guards practically spat out the words. Her face was sweaty even through the evening was cool, and Rodney wondered nervously if she had a fever. He trusted the biohazard suit to keep him safe, but every muscle in his body tensed regardless.

"I wish to speak with a healer." Taran stepped forward and Hanso rolled beside her. "We are all pledged to work together, to help others, to promote better health for all."

"The local healers all fell victim to the plague you started, along with everyone in their care. That's how we knew to blame your false inoculation."

"What about the patients we couldn't immunize due to other medical concerns?" Taran asked.

"They caught it fast enough."

"If you're blaming our medical practice, there must have been some delay between those you believe were injected with disease and any new patients or those not injected falling ill." Taran tried to reason with them while inching closer.

"Stop!" The leader of the guard yelled, now red faced and wiping at her nose. "Nothing you can say will convince me, and no one dares go near the medical center to ask questions of the ill. The only reason we do not beat you to the ground is that your cursed technology might destroy our entire planet." She waved at Hanso as she said the last, and the BotKin made a loud sighing sound that Rodney recognized and a vacuum intake.

"So you didn't even offer them the test tubes I left." Taran faced down the guard leader, who only glared at her. "Return them to us now, and we will leave in peace."

A stare down ensued. Finally, the contest of wills led to the large man they'd previously met pulling the test tubes—still bundled and empty—from inside his jacket.

Hanso extended a side appendage with a special collection bag pre-attached. The circular opening at the top was barely larger than the bundle of test tubes, and the large man's fingers brushed the sides as he dropped them in. Hanso sealed the collection bag and let loose a loud whoosh of suction like an industrial vacuum. It was enough to flutter the clothing and hair of the large man and the presumed leader who stood at the front of the guard group.

The youth behind them instantly raised a knife in one hand and a jagged rock in the other. The other guards each reached for their weapons, but the burst of suction ended in only three seconds, before actual violence occurred.

"Please," Taran said, "It is only a medical safety procedure."

"Leave now," the guard leader insisted, blade in hand.

Teyla was already dialing the alpha site.

"Of course," Taran answered, backing away with Hanso at her side. "Despite what you believe, we are your allies and still committed to the Network of Healers. We will do our best to help if we can find a way."

The youth raised both rock and knife threateningly as they made their way through the Gate.

At the alpha site, Hanso rolled into the bot containment box prepared ahead of time. The BioKin passed through a first round of decontamination for their suits as the bot's box was hosed down with disinfectant, just in case. Back on Atlantis, they would all endure full decon procedures for the second time that day.

But Hanso carried their real hope. While presumably immune to any human pathogens, MedBots had been designed to transport samples safely and to be easily and fully disinfected themselves. The clever new feature the doctors and Rodney had planned and installed for this meeting was the vacuum sampling system. While the doctors had expressed ethical concerns about taking non-consensual blood or tissue samples (or throwing one of the guards over his shoulder as Ronon had suggested—possibly joking? Rodney wasn't sure), they'd decided any airborne samples or even skin cells or bodily secretions sucked in by a strong vacuum, were fair game.

#

Biro kept Carson busy in the medical office on the fifth floor of their new tower for over an hour before following him out to a convertible recliner bed set up beside the dialysis and bioartificial liver machines. Luckily, their appointments weren't so tightly scheduled that this delay would inconvenience others.

Lansol and both of the Lo Secans waiting for new kidneys, preferred to bask in the morning light like cats, and had chosen the eastern corner for the dialysis set up with that in mind. Danisius, who'd preferred afternoons like Carson, was now two weeks post-surgery and currently using the rowing machine in the physical therapy area as Carson was taking his seat and settling in for dialysis.

"How are you today, Danisius?" Carson asked.

"I love this rowing machine! I think I'll get a boat and move out by a lake when I return to Grusset." Her hair was wrapped high on her head and a thin sheen of sweat gathered at her hairline. When she'd arrived on Atlantis four weeks before, suffering from what the locals called Bad Blood, the same disease that had almost killed Carson, Danisius hadn't been able to walk without her sister's help.

"Is Pilialim not joining you today?" Carson asked as Biro checked over the machinery and tubing he needed. Normally Hanso or Taran would be there to help, wanting to double check everything even though Carson was a doctor and knew these machines almost as well as his own body by now.

"She called it quits while you were meeting with Healer Biro. Said to wish you good luck."

Carson wasn't always certain what translated as luck when the two sisters and Healer Follaz from Grusset said it. They seemed to have half a dozen terms that all came out the same with Gate translation, and despite attempts to explain the distinctions, which involved vivid folktales and epic poems, the analogies were mostly lost on outsiders.

"Is she feeling okay?" Carson followed up as Biro started up the machines.

"Finally! After all she's put up with caring for me through the Bad Blood, I couldn't believe how she groaned about the place they cut her open to take a kidney being so much worse than where they cut me open to sew it in." Danisius kept a strong rowing pace as she spoke, and Carson couldn't help being impressed with how healthy and full of life she seemed after only a month on Atlantis.

Biro said, "With how surgeries work here and how your sister's kidney was positioned, her incision was more significant than yours. Even in the practice transplants that Healers Taran and Follaz did on the orvo, the donor took a few days longer than the recipient to start rooting around for grubs."

"The position of organs in those pigs isn't that similar to humans," Carson said, a little sharper than he meant to be. The start of dialysis always made him cold. The involuntary tightening of his shoulder caused a stress reaction if he didn't proactively tamp it down.

With a cluck of her tongue, Biro pulled a small blanket from under the recliner bed to partially cover Carson and keep him warmer. "Somchai will have a cow if he hears you call the orvo 'pigs.' He's all about respect for local species. Also, he has high hopes for those critters and the future of medical science in Pegasus. If the simulations Hanso and I are running and the samples and scans I've taken from your immune system pan out, the orvo might jump Pegasus completely past the need for human organ and blood donors."

"And you don't find that at all suspicious?" Carson asked.

Biro paused to meet his eyes before shaking her head. "Look, I know what Michael did to you was traumatic and violated all sorts of medical ethics. But if he used orvo samples in his process, that's because people here had been using orvo blood and other bits successfully for generations. Local farmers used xenobiological blood transfusions and had worked out a semi-successful herbal anti-rejection protocol based on plants humans and orvo both benefitted from. There's nothing like it on Earth or any planet I've heard about in the Milky Way."

Carson glanced toward Danisius, not sure how much their new residents really understood about the expedition's origins or why they'd been able to find a cure for the previously fatal Bad Blood so rapidly. But Danisius smiled reassuringly, "The farmers who raise the orvo have a tradition of trading them to those they help heal."

"Why?" Carson asked.

"Some places have ceremonies to honor those who helped you. Some people want to eat the rest of the animal that's already inside them," Danisius tilted her head in a local equivalent of a shrug. "Most of the ceremonial ones get eaten in the end as well. They are very tasty."

Biro laughed at whatever look must have crossed Carson's face. "Can't argue with that."

#

After dialysis, Carson wasn't nearly as exhausted and feeble as he'd once been. But he was used to having at least Hanso, and often Ronon besides, to see him home and cheer him up a bit. Taking the transporter from the medical area on the fifth floor to their penthouse suite didn't require much walking or even much standing with his walker. But the trip seemed a lot longer with no one beside him and no one to go home to.

He was surprised when the transporter doors opened to the tantalizing smell of bacon.

"Carson!" Madison called out, having taken to calling everyone in their living unit by first names within days of them all moving in, which encouraged the rest to as well. Murderbot stood beside them at the kitchen counter, doing something with wood and a knife.

Not knowing what to say to Murderbot, Carson focused on Madison as he said, "I didn't expect you to be finished working so early. Are you making dinner?"

"I wanted to make something fun for my uncle and the others to go with their dinner in quarantine tonight." As they wrapped a piece of bacon around a chunk of fruit and a green sprig that must be some sort of herb, Murderbot handed over a sliver of wood. Madison stabbed it through the bacon roll, and Carson realized Murderbot was whittling toothpicks for what appeared to be appetizers. "I know Rodney will eat anything with bacon, but I don't eat the stuff and Murderbot doesn't eat at all. Would you be willing to taste test a few combinations for us? I've tried all the vegetarian ingredients separately to make sure they're ripe or whatever."

Carson smiled as he eased himself into one of the high, supportive chairs he'd chosen for their common area. Their Ancient penthouse came with huge windows and floors that adjusted with a thought, but it had developed an eclectic—and very lived in—aesthetic as each occupant brought their own chairs to surround the heavy wood table Ronon had bartered to have made. In the living room area, the sofa and chairs from Carson's old room coexisted with an enormous padded armchair and something from the medical center that Lansol had everyone calling a lawn chair. Meanwhile, the kitchen practically overflowed with mismatched dishes and containers, as well as Rodney's enormous coffee maker and Carson's many tins of tea. "I believe I could manage that, although others' tastes may vary."

"You probably know them all better than I do, even my uncle," Madison said, passing him a small plate. "Try this first."

Taking a bite of the creation he'd just seen constructed, Carson closed his eyes to focus on the taste. The texture of the fruit was a bit grainy, but it tasted sweet, almost like fig. The herb was sharp, and the fatty bacon somehow blended the flavors, as if the insides were garnish for the meat. "That's amazing," he said when only the toothpick remained. "I had no idea you cooked."

"Mostly I make desserts. But unhealthy snack foods kind of fascinate me, and I saw someone do this for a brunch in my dorm one weekend." They placed another bacon wrapped creation on his plate. This one looked like a jelly tea sandwich, tiny and with the crusts cut off, once again wrapped in bacon held by a homemade toothpick.

Before tasting, Carson couldn't help but ask, "Is this orvo bacon?"

"No idea. It was in our kitchen. Do you want some water or tea?"

Not seeing a pot set out to boil already, Carson said, "Water would be lovely."

After thanking Murderbot who delivered a tall glass of water almost immediately, Carson tried the sandwich and said, "Many a child in Britain would no doubt love this for tea time, perhaps in Canada, too?"

"We didn't do that in my house. With my mom's idea of 'treats' that's probably for the best," Madison answered, already wrapping a long green spear of vegetable in a spiral like a candy cane. "Do you think most adults won't like it?"

"Probably not as much as Rodney will, but it's so different, I honestly can't predict."

Madison placed the long spiral wrapped creation on his plate and said, "I'm terrible at predicting what people will like, or any emotion really. I guess I'm not very empathic."

Carson wanted to protest the harsh self-evaluation, but took his time to eat the bacon-wrapped vegetable spear and think how Madison might have arrived at such a conclusion. "First, I want to say I like this a lot. It reminds me of asparagus served with prosciutto on Earth. Second, it seems to me you're demonstrating a great deal of empathy by making snacks for friends stuck in quarantine and trying to figure out what others might enjoy."

Pausing with empty hands, Madison gazed down at the counter as they spoke. "I guess some people talk about empathy like it's just trying to understand or puzzle out what someone feels or wants. And I like puzzles and trying to map how other people think. But mostly I hear empathy described as feeling what someone else feels, either instinctively or by getting to know them really well. I never feel like I understand anyone that well, and I'm not sure anyone else feels things the way I do."

For a moment, Madison sounded very young. Then Carson remembered Ronon explaining how he experienced emotions in different parts of his body, where the Satedan language represented them. "I'm not sure anyone can know if what they feel or imagine is truly the same as what someone else feels."

Madison laughed. "Now you sound like Murderbot."

As Madison started wrapping what might be a small fish, Murderbot said, "Madison thinks it odd when I say 'I think I feel,' but many emotion words are ill-defined. I'm not sure when my feelings might be considered a simulation or projection of what humans feel."

Carson nodded, feeling a little out of his depth. "It sounds like you've both given this more thought than most people do, which if not a sign of empathy, must be a form of emotional intelligence at least."

"I've certainly never been accused of having that," Madison said, as they set a fishy bacon wrap with a berry stabbed on top in front of Carson.

Murderbot commented without looking up from a growing pile of almost identical toothpicks, "Would comments on your fic about a character reacting just like the reader would have expected or showing a greater similarity to the reader than any portrayal they've ever read indicate their esteem for your emotional intelligence?"

"You read the comments on my fic?" Madison asked, turning to face Murderbot full on.

"I read the comments after every fic I read. How could I better learn about human reactions and what they want to read?"

Carson didn't want to interrupt the moment, but when Madison just stood with their mouth slightly open for at least half a minute, he told her. "This is also delicious. I think any of these would be much appreciated by anyone who likes bacon." Then he added, "And beyond that, there is a great deal of truth in saying it's the thought that counts, and each item you make shows a great deal of care. I'd still call it empathy."

Madison looked a bit glassy eyed as they proceeded to make at least a dozen of each bacon combination, with a few variations. Carson wondered if beyond serving as a human who ate bacon, he might have realized part of what the Satedans had hoped for from their elders.

Then Carson heard the bot lift opening in the room off of his own that belonged to Hanso, and moments later the bot he and Ronon had more or less adopted came rolling into the common area. "Hanso, you're back." Hanso flashed three lights and waved their antennae. Carson asked, "How is everyone?"

"Full decontaminations is complete. Human teammates have returned to quarantine. I am looking for a SamplerBot to consult on a new plan. Has ArtSweeper come by tonight?"

Carson had been introduced to ArtSweeper after the shy bot had attended several movie nights in Murderbot's home theater without ever speaking. Murderbot had explained the small, round SamplerBots were mostly used to coordinating swarms of more rudimentary bots and rarely even socialized with the other BotKin. However, ArtSweeper had wanted the BioKin at movie nights to at least know they had an individual name.

"I will check," Murderbot said, before proceeding to their own room. Barely a minute later Murderbot returned with the smaller bot trailer behind like a flat round puppy. "I've offered to go along with ArtSweeper, if that's okay."

Hanso flashed three lights and emitted a few fast beeps. ArtSweeper gave two soft beeps in reply.

"I'm coming too, to deliver my treats," Madison announced, already stacking the glass containers they'd been filling with bacon-wrapped appetizers.

"We might as well all go, at least to the observation area." Carson felt much better after sitting for a bit and eating Madison's samples. Seeing Ronon and the others, even through an observation window, would be worth the extra walk.

The way Hanso rolled into place right beside Carson as he made his way to the transporter and the way the others all crowded in already felt natural and familiar, like family should.

#

Uncle Rodney was shouting at his teammates when Madison and the others arrived in a narrow observation area with large windows onto the quarantine room. "I've already drawn up specifications to mass produce aerial mini-bots that the SamplerBot could control to test all waterways and wells for contamination."

The Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Somchai Srisuk, also referred to as Khun Somchai or Healer Somchai, entered the room in a yellow biohazard suit and replied flatly, "I would swat one of those down in a heartbeat if they flew into my space unexpectedly. And I'm used to bots and flying machines. If you want BotKin to possibly help with medical outreach later, we can't send an unannounced swarm of flying metal constructs. Besides, Dr. Biro determined the primary transmission vectors are contaminated water and then fecal-oral. The effected population won't benefit unless we can communicate about those vectors."

"The idiots won't talk to us. They're blaming your vaccine." Rodney waved his tablet wildly before noticing the crowd in the observation area when Carson groaned. "Did you bring a SamplerBot?"

ArtSweeper used a combination of magnets and suction to scale the wall until their underside was pressed against the viewing window. The position felt exposed to Madison until they realized SamplerBots had far more sensors underneath. Then Madison wondered why ArtSweeper didn't watch movies that way and tried to remember which types of sensors were where. They hadn't spent much time with SamplerBots—compared to MedBots, LabBots, CatBots, and Murderbot at least—and they regretted it immediately.

"ArtSweeper," Rodney instantly recognized the bot and closed in on the other side of the glass asking, "How many flying mini-bots could you coordinate in three dimensions at once and over what range?"

ArtSweeper responded with a series of screechy fast beeps and one word, "Underspecified."

Rodney held the tablet he'd somehow finagled into quarantine in front of the glass and said, "Here's my design so far. I based them on climbing bots you oversee on Atlantis."

At a glance, Madison thought the new bots resembled dragonflies, but the central shaft was hollow to allow for sucking in a liquid sample. A note to one side suggested the wingbeats would automatically increase to support the added weight. The controlling BotKin would only need to coordinate sample areas and flight trajectories. But if someone actually swatted at the tiny bots, they'd have no defenses. They weren't complex enough to program for automated evasive maneuvers, and Madison already knew the SamplerBots weren't optimized for rapid remote responses.

After a couple frantic beeps from ArtSweeper, Murderbot stepped up beside them. "Dr. McKay, are you suggesting ArtSweeper would be supervising these mini-bots outside of Atlantis?"

"Obviously," Rodney shook his head but kept the tablet steady where the BotKin and other observers could see it. "Whatever plague they claim we started with our immunizations could apparently be waterborne, based on samples Hanso stealthily sucked in." Hanso flashed three lights in recognition.

"ArtSweeper does not wish to leave Atlantis," Murderbot said. "It could be traumatic to expose a SamplerBot to the social and logistical stresses of an offworld mission, especially if they are coerced into going. However, I could perform the needed calculations if a control unit could be made to suit my reaction times, and I am willing to volunteer."

Madison's breath caught at the idea of Murderbot leaving Atlantis. Or maybe it was the thought of Murderbot leaving without Madison. But Madison hadn't even started the training or clearance procedures to go off world. Then again, neither had Murderbot—or Hanso for that matter. Madison was pretty sure there were no clearance procedures to assure BotKin were prepared for offworld missions. Before they had a chance to protest, Ronon interrupted.

"I could sneak a sample from their well." At Ronon's words, the crow's feet by Carson's eyes tightened a little, and Madison thought back to their discussion of empathy.

"In biohazard yellow?" Rodney quipped.

Ronon shrugged and went to lean on the wall beside the window, at the point closest to where Carson stood. "Don't need it."

Khun Somchai cleared his throat, a noise that drew even more attention when compounded with a biohazard hood. "Although transmission for our suspected coxsackievirus is generally fecal-oral or waterborne, it could still be spread by respiratory droplets. I'm not ruling anything out at this point, and I'd still insist on full protective covering if we send anyone other than bots who are designed with complete decontamination protocols."

"Which my flying mini-bots are!" Rodney tapped his tablet emphatically.

Bumping playfully against Rodney's shoulder John said, "Jumpers have full decontamination protocols. I could fly a cloaked Jumper through the Gate and lower something to collect samples from each well or stream. If we went at night, no one would see a splash or anything."

"The guards would notice the Gate opening," Teyla said. "If they stand as close as last time, they would feel a rush of air as the Jumper passed."

"So we plan a distraction." The smile John gave her would have worried most other teams.

Rodney just flung his arms wide in exasperation and then focused intently on the glass containers in Madison's arms. "Did you bring food?"

#

A light began to flash on the Ancient console by Carson's bed. It was barely brighter than the moonlight streaming in through his still open window, and he'd never seen it do that before. Shifting to sit on that side of the bed, Carson was caught off guard by Ronon's face. His lover's soft expression was framed by curls that fell forward, showing Ronon was looking down, presumably at the Ancient console in the quarantine room. The white V-neck of the scrubs they were given for quarantine stood out in starker contrast to his skin and chest hair than the darker clothing he usually wore.

"I miss you already," Carson said. "Can you see me, too?"

Ronon pressed his lips forward and his shoulder shifted. Then Carson could hear Rodney talking fast in the background as Ronon whispered in deeper tones, "First private moment. Wanted to know you were okay."

"Just a bit cold and lonely. I'd be better with you beside me," Carson answered honestly.

"Yeah." Ronon raised an eyebrow. "You help Madison with the bacon snacks?"

"Only as first taster."

"Sounds good." Ronon licked his lips appreciatively.

Carson wanted to kiss him, wanted with every fiber of his being to touch him in some way. "Any idea how long Somchai is keeping you quarantined?"

Ronon shrugged. "Think of me during physical therapy tomorrow. Think of how much I want to be there."

"Hardly a sight you'd miss."

The way Ronon stared longingly even through a console screen showed he disagreed. "You're beautiful."

Carson knew better than to brush away any compliment Ronon gave him. Instead Carson said, "It's good to hear your voice and see your face."

"Sleep better remembering yours."

Carson chuckled at how sappy they both were.

Ronon glanced briefly over his shoulder. "Gotta go before McKay makes a scene."

"Sleep well," was all Carson could say before the screen went blank. Nonetheless, he found himself remembering the soft smile on Ronon's face as he lay back on their bed. The moonlight and ocean breeze kept him company as he drifted off to sleep.

#

Rodney hadn't bothered to stop working when the quarantine room lights dimmed. It was still ridiculously early by his reckoning. He'd never sleep well on the narrow infirmary bed with its scratchy sheets and disinfectant scent anyway.

Less than an hour later, he had a new aerial drone design and eagerly stomped over to John's bed and shoved his lover's shoulder. "Look, this not-so-mini-bot can siphon its own water sample, dock magnetically on the side of the Jumper, and be pre-programmed for basic evasive maneuvers."

"What?" John mumbled. "I'd just fallen asleep."

"Fine. I'll send the designs to Lorne and see if he wants to pilot it."

"What, no." John was sitting up straight on his mattress in an instant. Ronon and Teyla had both risen to listen as well, although Ronon seemed to be wandering to the far side of the room. Healer Taran slept like a log.

"I designed it so the power and programming come from Ancient tech, meaning any gene carrier could direct it to detach from the Jumper and fly down to take a sample."

"Is that a tiltroter? Like a V-22 Osprey?" John pointed at the screen, and Rodney shifted so their shoulders pressed together. This might be the most contact and attention he could get from his lover tonight.

"Better," Rodney huffed, "but same idea. All the vertical capabilities, but I also allowed for gliding or swooping, in case of wind channels or waterfalls."

"You think we'll need that to test possible water supplies?" John asked

"I know to prepare for every option with you in the pilot seat." Rodney jostled against John where their arms pressed together. "Think you can handle this and the Jumper, or should we bring Lorne along as well."

John elbowed Rodney saying, "Don't be a tease. You just said you made it for me."

If they hadn't been in a quarantine room with an observation window, electronic surveillance, and three other people, Rodney would have pushed John back on his bed and demanded the homage he so rightly deserved. Instead, after a brief glance around the room he called out to Ronon, who was bent over an Ancient console, "Do you even know how to use that?"

Ronon said something too low for Rodney to hear, then wiped the screen with one pass of his hand. "Nope."

The big man took two long strides and hopped back onto his own narrow infirmary bed, which creaked worryingly. Rodney stood staring as John laughed and Teyla raised a single eyebrow. Taran just snored softly.

#

The next morning when Atlantis dialed Lo Seco, Madison was in charge of rolling a dozen small logs— about the size of duraflame logs but carved with a warning Madison couldn't read—up the ramp while Murderbot threw paper airplanes through the center of the Gate.

Healer Follaz had carved the first two logs as prototypes, following guidelines the Pegasus Network of Healers had used in the past to warn of new epidemics or outbreaks. The guidelines he'd inscribed amounted to boiling water for drinking and washing, taking extra cleaning precautions, and isolating the sick. They were all things the medical center would probably have done in response to any sudden outbreak, at least once they realized the illness could spread to those who hadn't received the suspect immunizations from the Lanteans.

Murderbot and ArtSweeper had copied the symbols precisely onto extra logs and then onto paper that they folded into well-crafted paper airplanes. Murderbot had practiced throwing for maximum distance to draw any remaining guards away from the Gate. In addition to the valid but possibly redundant medical warnings, the logs and paper airplanes were a distraction to allow a cloaked Jumper to fly through the Gate just after local sunset.

Madison knew they'd only been enlisted to roll logs because Murderbot was in charge of the paper airplanes. Still, it felt good to help, even with something as basic as pushing cylinders up a ramp. They hadn't been able to match Murderbot or ArtSweeper's skill at copying an unknown language or folding paper airplanes, so they'd spent the night before in Murderbot's room, dozing through an impromptu _Wormhole X-Treme!_ marathon with a swarm of CatBots while the bots with better carving and folding appendages worked nearby.

After Madison rolled their last log, they moved away from the Gate. They felt a wash of relief and relaxing muscles as Murderbot finish launching paper projectiles and came to stand right beside them. It had been decided that Murderbot and the proposed mini-bots weren't needed offworld, because Rodney had designed not-so-mini-bots that were even better for sampling water and could be controlled from the Jumper. A bunch of other engineers and scientists had probably been up all night preparing the new bots, and Madison wondered if anyone would seriously be expected to keep a normal work schedule today.

As the Jumper passed through the Gate, Murderbot asked Madison, "Do you need sleep or food more?"

Madison's smile turned into a yawn, "Sleep I guess."

"Go on back home. I'll put up a sign cancelling your office hours."

Not sure if they'd ever before been so in sync with anyone, Madison nodded and only managed to say, "Thanks."

#

"The sample results don't make sense unless people live upstream," Rodney grumbled from the co-pilot seat in the Jumper.

"As I explained," Healer Taran spoke in a slow, controlled voice that reminded Rodney of Carson when he was most annoyed, "The locals consider the mountains a sacred or cursed space of the original people. They believe any who go there will be cursed."

"Well maybe their curse is flowing down every waterway that branches off of this one." Rodney steered a not-so-mini-bot to collect another water sample as John kept them cloaked and hovering above the stream that seemed to be the source of every contaminated water sample they'd collected.

"Or animals could be carriers and their feces could be contaminating the water," Taran responded with a sigh. "Violating a sacred space will only fuel rumors that we caused this outbreak in the first place."

"Even if it's animals, we need to find out how far up the contamination goes." Rodney waved his arms too wide and caught his sleeve on the side of the Jumper. They were all wearing biohazard suits, without the hoods for now, just in case they were forced to land. Rodney felt bloated and trapped. John stilled his other arm, and Rodney wasn't sure if John was showing care for him or the Jumper. Either way, the touch calmed Rodney a bit. "Anyway, the 'original people' could have been the Ancients, and we're in one of their ships and carry some of their genes. Heck, we don't even have to set foot on the ground just fly above and siphon up a few water samples."

Taran tilted her head side to side. "Perhaps flying above respects the local beliefs well enough. But the original people were described as giant lizards, not the Ancestors or what you call Ancients."

"Not Wraith?" Rodney shivered.

"No one in Pegasus would disrespect lizards by describing the Wraith that way." Teyla spoke tightly from where she sat beside Taran in the second row. To Rodney she sounded defensive, as if people had perhaps treated her with less respect than a lizard when referring to her Wraith sense.

From the back Ronon said, "Nothing sacred about Wraith spaces. Plenty of legends about lizard people."

"Whatever," Rodney waved them all down. "We need to test the rest of this creek before local sunrise, which should be in less than an hour."

It took only three more samples before a test came back clean and Rodney eagerly directed, "Fly back between this and the last test site. I'll watch for life signs, and we can test another sample in between."

The initial test results from the in-between sample had just registered as clean when John interrupted, "Six human-sized life signs together on west side."

Rodney studied the sensor readings as John took them lower. He still had the program he'd developed to differentiate patients from healers when they'd previously visited LoSeco, but when everyone was lying down asleep, it didn't tell him much. "Definitely human from heat signature and heart rates. Hard to tell at this distance, but at least two have high fevers and elevated heart rates."

"How high?" Healer Taran asked.

"About 40 Celsius and 130 beats per minute."

"Can you tell if they're adults?" Taran's tone had changed completely, her voice deeper and words faster as she leaned forward, trying to read over Rodney's shoulder, even though Earth (well, Arabic) numbers were the only symbols on his display that she might be trained to recognize.

Rodney had learned a lot about Ancient sensors and made a few refinements of his own over the years, but he couldn't weigh people from an image, and the heat trapped under a pile of blankets could make even the outlines blurry. "I'd estimate they're at least Teyla's size."

"That's worse," Taran answered. Then she turned to John as if he'd know something Rodney didn't, "If I were willing to violate this planet's sacred space, would you let me bring them back to Atlantis if their lives are in danger? Because the medical center downstream is probably overrun, and they certainly won't help anyone who admits they've been up here."

"They never closed the loophole we used to bring you and your first set of patients to Atlantis," John said. "If Cirillo doesn't like us bringing back more, he might encourage the city council to decide faster on your new medical center plans."

"Might want to ask what they've been digging up, too." The side conversation had given Rodney enough time to check more detailed scans of the local area, and he'd found a series of trenches nearby, some of which led to the newly contaminated stream. Flipping the image to where John and everyone else could see it on the Jumper's front screen, Rodney marked two points on the stream. "How about collecting samples from just above and below where they've been digging."

As John piloted two not-so-mini-bots with fresh sample containers, Taran said, "As a healer, I wish to help them regardless."

"Understood, but someone should stay with the Jumper," Teyla sounded stern. "To ensure the samples and what we've learned so far will make it back to Atlantis. There could be greater danger here than we know."

"Rodney, you're staying with the Jumper," John said.

"Nope. I need to know what they were digging up," Rodney said, flipping another image to the front screen. "This looks like the broken end of a pipe over a meter in diameter, but it's not metal, more like some kind of fiber. If we're landing, I want a sample and more scans of that."

"I can get your sample and scans," John sounded annoyed.

"While I'm sure you could get some samples and some scans," Rodney waved his own customized Life Signs Detector and Ancient scanner toward John's face, "You won't know where to focus or what follow up scans to take. I can't know what I'm looking for until I see each piece of new data. So you stay and drive the getaway car. I'll go crack the safe wide open."

Taran turned to Teyla, mouth open to ask questions, but Teyla silenced her with a look. Instead, Teyla said to John, "I could accompany Healer Taran to examine and question the people here. Ronon could accompany Rodney to where they were digging. We will bring them both back safely to the Jumper, whatever we may find."

"I don't like it," John rubbed the back of his neck, "But I guess it sounds like the best plan we have. Seal your suits and follow all the rules so we don't get quarantined even longer. And let's try to finish before dawn if possible."

They all put their hoods on and sealed the annoying bright yellow biohazard suits, even John since he'd be exposed as soon as they opened the hatch. Then John checked Rodney's suit and insisted everyone be checked by at least one other person before he let them out of the Jumper.

Without hesitation, Rodney followed his scanner readings to the broken pipe he wanted to sample. He summoned one of the not-so-mini-bots, since it had the only sample containers he could access while wearing a biohazard suit. Then he tugged at the edge of the pipe and realized neither he nor the bot had a tool that could cut it. He turned to Ronon and said, "For once, I bet even you don't have a knife."

"What you betting?" Ronon asked as he unsheathed a blade at least six inches long.

"Cut me a piece of that pipe that will fit in a sample jar, and I'll get Madison to make you whichever of those bacon treats you like best," Rodney offered.

"Nope, I want electronics. I'll give you details later."

Rodney's eyes went wide—hopefully hidden by the faceplate on his biohazard suit—as he imagined Ronon asking him to make a sex toy for Carson. But he spent enough time imagining new toys for himself and John, that he did consider himself something of an expert. "Fine, whatever. Get cutting."

As Ronon worked through what appeared to be surprisingly strong, multi-layered pipe material, Rodney took new readings of the freshly exposed pipe edges and directed signals down the length of the pipe to better map where it might lead. He tried to scan through the ground beside them, but the mineral content was high, and the Jumper scanners were generally better for that sort of thing. So he wandered along the dug up areas using his tablet as a light source while he ran every scan possible with his Life Signs Detector. Ronon caught up and took a guard position a few feet away while the not-so-mini-drone flew the pipe sample back to the Jumper.

Rodney hadn't expected to find anything as advanced as an energy source, but he was surprised to find a complex filtration system where several pipes converged. He scanned from every possible angle, trying to find crystals, electronics, or any other data storage. Instead he found two large pumps and a tiny one that seemed to move water in and out of smaller reservoirs. Or maybe some of those reservoirs had contained something other than water. None of it was operational at the moment.

Rodney told Ronon, "Go ask Healer Taran for some swab things so I can test what used to be in these reservoirs."

"Not leaving you here alone," Ronon answered with one hand still holding his knife.

"Seriously?" Rodney raised his lit-up tablet as he lifted his hands in protest, and Ronon deftly tapped to blank the screen. It really shouldn't surprise Rodney after all this time that Ronon knew how to work a tablet better than half the grunts from Earth assigned to the expedition. He paused and realized it would be faster to walk the hundred meters to the tent-like structure where he could pester Taran for sample swabs than to try to argue Ronon into getting them for him.

That's how Rodney walked in on a skinny naked guy sitting amid other naked sleeping people and explaining, "Of course we sleep all together, we are family within the tent."

To which Ronon replied, "You speak Satedan, but strangely."

Taran spared a glance at that, and then turned back to the small sample containers she was fiddling open.

"One of my parents was family among the Thoss, although I never had the chance to see the family home on Sateda. Can you by any chance read Old Satedan?" the naked man asked. "There is an inscription nearby that I could not interpret, but it looks something like Old Satedan."

Rodney said to Taran, "I need at least four sample swabs." Then he said to Ronon, "Find out where the inscription is, and I'll scan that too."

Ronon glared but got directions from the man who seemed too weak to stand.

Taran glared but gave Rodney four swabs in resealable sample containers.

#

When Madison tried to check in with their advisor after lunch, all Kusanagi wanted to know was, "Are you and Murderbot still developing training models together?"

"Yes, but even if we prove our hypothesis, I don't see that leading to a dissertation or a novel contribution to computer science or robotics."

Kusanagi was working the lathe in the long CS-3 lab today. Other than the day she refashioned a damaged plate with decorate starbursts for a CatBot, Cheshire, it was the only physical project Madison had seen her advisor working on. It might be another replacement part for a bot, but Kusanagi didn't volunteer information, and Madison was hesitant to ask. Most days, Kusanagi stayed in her office and Madison didn't see her at all. They exchanged occasional messages. and Madison shared progress reports with data sets attached.

Kusanagi didn't look up from the small part held in clamps, but the next time the lathe was quiet, she said, "Everything you're doing is novel. Learn from it before trying to pin down a research topic."

When Kusanagi settled into deep focus on her work, Madison realized the conversation was over.

#

Madison spent the rest of afternoon at their desk in the basement robot meeting room. After sleeping through their morning office hours, struggling through the aborted conversation with Kusanagi, and having most of their living group offworld and then returned to quarantine, everything felt off schedule and out of place. Madison's brain was fuzzy and their shoulders pulled in for no good reason. Working with Murderbot at the desk beside them offered a small slice of normality at least.

Nonetheless, as quitting time approached, Madison couldn't help saying aloud, "I worry I'm going about this all wrong."

"Going about what?" Murderbot asked, still transcribing from a recording they played back internally.

"Whatever I'm supposed to be learning about BotKin. Whatever Kusanagi hopes will turn into my doctoral thesis."

Murderbot shrugged in a way far too elegant for someone with open metal components for shoulders and arms. "What targets did you expect to reach in one Earth-month?"

That was Murderbot's version of sassing Madison, and Madison could at least recognize it as such. "Never mind me, I'm being ridiculous. And you're still typing up data for our simulations."

"I try to time my existential crises for while you're asleep."

"No, really?" Madison felt a stab of guilt mixed with both a personal and academic fear of being left out.

"No." Murderbot gave a rapid headshake of complete negation. "I'm too busy reviewing all the training transcripts I've collected involving LabBot 1 or Data to project short term targets, but in theory, my power source could last a thousand Earth-years and then be replaced." Murderbot saved and sent the entry they'd been typing and turned their upper body to face Madison without shifting their current triangular base. "In the last nineteen days I've transcribed over an Earth-month equivalent of real-time training interactions, 792 hours, while only engaging in 218 hours of novel training interactions. I haven't worried about that imbalance because it didn't occur to me to worry. Do you think I should?"

Suppressing the reflexive "no" they would offer to most humans asking such a thing, Madison thought about how the hours added up. Nineteen days, the time since they'd moved into the new tower, meant 475 hours. There had been five one-hour corrections added for the actual rotation of the planet where Atlantis currently rested (despite defaulting to 24-hour Earth-days after too many planet changes). But they were about five hours short of midnight on the current day, so Madison chose to consider that a wash. They knew Murderbot could transcribe bot trainings from memory at three to five times the original interaction speed. When other BotKin shared their memories of trainings with LabBot 1 or Data, Murderbot could only transcribe as fast as they could share. The limitations the Ancients had placed on BotKins' data access and communications still irritated Madison, even if they tried to stay objective about the various pros and cons. "So it took you 257 hours to transcribe 792 hours of training?"

"Not quite. I spent nearly seventeen hours on solitary, non-training activities including self-maintenance, other tech repair, and transit."

Madison had become accustomed to the BotKin referring to all interactions—with humans, other BotKin, or media—as training. The media counted because they tested predictions about what the creators would do next. Madison assumed Murderbot's own writing counted because they received feedback from Kusanagi and others. But whatever Murderbot might learn from repairing a bot lift or spotting changes in their environment while riding in one didn't count as training. Not that Madison had any idea how to value each activity or any insight to offer on whether Murderbot should worry about how they used their time. "I have no idea. Do you ever have regrets?"

"When I fail to reach a goal, I can often apply new data I've collected to backwards engineer a probabilistically better set of actions."

"Hindsight is 20/20," Madison offered.

"I understand that 20/20 refers to normal human vision, but as I am the only one of my kind at present, I'd suggest that whatever I do is 20/20 and my hindsight might be better described as 20/10." Murderbot zoomed the lenses on their upper triangle out in metaphorical demonstration.

"That's a nice way to think of it," Madison said, rubbing their eyes before realizing what they were doing. "If I can really accept myself as myself, then I'm my own baseline. So long as I'm not injured or self-sabotaging or something, whatever I do is my own 20/20. Rather than regretting past decisions, I can build on them to improve going forward."

"Would that change how you feel about your work?" Murderbot asked, cameras steadily fixed on Madison's face.

"Yes." Madison smiled, even in the face of cameras like eye contact.

"Will it change what work you choose to do?"

"Huh," Madison tapped their fingers on their knees, realizing it probably wouldn't. They'd already decided on what they wanted to add to their research. They just felt better about it now. And they might be more likely to submit a troublesome story for their writing group to review, but they could deal with that later. "If I want to build a broader understanding of all the BotKin on Atlantis rather than focusing so much on those who trained you and the bot that failed, would you want to help with that?"

Murderbot shifted from their triangular sitting position to bipedal form as they replied, "Hearing what you will choose to ask about and determining how many of the answers I already know sounds like interesting training to me. Should we begin tonight as we walk home to get you dinner and then attend the frosting flower workshop, or would you like to start tomorrow?"

"Shoot, I forgot all about the frosting flower workshop." Madison saved their work and started packing things into their shoulder bag. "Do you think we should invite Carson? He might be lonely at home without us."

"He would have Hanso with him either way," Murderbot said, and Madison felt bad about how they'd phrased the question. But Murderbot continued saying, "But we could invite them both."

Obviously, Murderbot and Madison wouldn't have planned to go—heck, the people in their writing group who'd told them about the workshop might have boycotted—if the meeting room on the Southwest Pier wasn't now open to all BotKin indefinitely. Madison could only blame the brain fog brought on by their disrupted sleep and work schedule that day. Pulling their bag over their shoulder, Madison said, "What can you tell me about the initial training partners for each of the current BotKin?"

#

Carson had just sliced his final roll of refrigerated ginger cookie dough when Madison and Murderbot came in from the transporter deep in conversation. "So the swarms of smaller bots managed by SamplerBots can change over time?"

Murderbot carried a pile of electronics to their room as they answered, "Redesigning and rebuilding the simpler bots is at least half of what SamplerBots are trained for."

"So when my uncle Rodney asked ArtSweeper to manage a swarm of flying mini-bots, was that out of line?" Madison clutched their shoulder bag in front of them and nodded to Carson from halfway between the kitchen and their own room.

As Carson shifted his cutting board to wash in the sink, Hanso flashed three lights. For a moment Carson imagined it was a comment on what Rodney had asked of ArtSweeper. But then Hanso was pulling out a tray of perfectly browned cookies, and Carson guessed that was what the lights had meant.

Hanso put the last tray in the oven and they both tidied up quietly as Murderbot said, "If someone hung a chandelier or large mobile in a space ArtSweeper took charge of, then ArtSweeper would be the one to decide how their existing mini-bots could best clean and maintain it or if they needed to reconfigure existing bots or build new ones. Maybe ArtSweeper would even design and organize flying bots if that best suited the situation. It's not that they couldn't do what Rodney asked but that the nature of the request was far from what they trained on and involved a lot of unknowns. In most situations, it probably works out better if SamplerBots stick to what they know and only make small incremental changes in the design and utilization of whatever bot swarms they control."

"Why are they called SamplerBots if they don't go offworld?" Madison asked as Murderbot came back into the common area. They both gravitated toward the cookies, but Carson didn't want to interrupt and didn't mind if Madison ate some.

Murderbot tilted their head in an elaborate pantomime of not understanding. "Because most of their work involves sampling. To know if a surface is clean or which cleaning method will be most effective and efficient, they have to sample before and after."

"Wouldn't some of that be sensing or scanning rather than sampling?" Madison slid into a chair by the counter, and Hanso passed them a glass of water without being asked.

Stepping in beside Madison and giving Hanso a sharp nod, Murderbot was already answering, "But they'd still be sampling data from all the sensors or scanners they deployed with their swarm."

"Sampling data is part of sampling." Madison literally smacked a palm to their forehead. "Like training data, training models, and anything with feedback counts as training for BotKin. Why did the Ancients limit you to only communicate in languages humans use? Didn't they run into these shifts in meaning, or did they already think more like BotKin than we do? If I studied Ancient, would this make more sense?"

"No," Carson and Murderbot answered in unison.

Carson chuckled and said, "Glad to know I'm not the only one who finds Ancient even less useful than English."

Murderbot nodded with a long slow bobbing motion that seemed to convey long suffering and disappointments. "It is possible to be as imprecise and misleading in English as in Ancient, but it would usually require intent. Compared to the Ancient we have recorded, there are far more options for specificity within the English vocabulary available to Gate translation."

"Wait." Carson pushed back from the completed washing up, struck by a question he hadn't thought to ask Hanso. "Does Gate translation work for BotKin?"

Hanso flashed three light and Murderbot said, "Yes."

"But how?" Carson asked, sitting down. Hanso moved to be at his side, but Carson didn't need any help.

"I assume something in the crystals that let us train as BotKin mimics the way Gate translation works for humans," Murderbot said slowly. "Can you tell me how it works with biological systems?"

Carson shook his head. "Sadly, no." Then he turned to Madison and offered, "There's some leftover curried chicken salad if you haven't eaten yet."

"Thanks," Madison said, rushing through the now empty kitchen to grab that from the refrigerator. "We were going to ask if you wanted to come to a workshop on making flowers out of frosting. Or is that what you were making the cookies for anyway?"

Carson shook his head as Madison dug into the bowl of leftover chicken while standing at the kitchen counter.

"I was going to bring cookies to the quarantine room, but I've made far too many. You could take some to your workshop."

"Come with us," Madison said, mouth and bowl mostly empty already. "You can bring Ronon cookies with roses on them, and Rodney will be happy for any added sugar. We can all go visit together after the workshop."

Much as with their uncle, Carson found it increasingly hard to say no to Madison.

#

"Try putting rings of 3-5-7 petals, as so." Peri, who was teaching the workshop but was small enough to be mostly invisible from the back tables, had a rich, deep voice that filled the meeting room, with its high ceilings and walls tiled in elaborate mosaics. The screen that had broadcast participants from the infirmary at a previous city council meeting now showed Peri's hands, magnified to fifty times life size, spinning frosting petals onto a metal frosting nail that looked like a giant thumb tack.

Someone had 3-D printed enough plastic frosting nails for the entire class, but Penny, standing next to Murderbot, was determined to create 24 frosting roses directly on the 24 mini-cupcakes she'd brought for that purpose. Penny bit her tongue and tucked her long brown hair behind her ears—which had freckles! Madison hadn't realized anyone had freckles on their ears before meeting Penny—as she spun a wobbly rose with very wide petals. The streaks in the deep pink frosting seemed to make the wavering petals look more natural.

Murderbot was the first to respond with, "Wow, that does look like a flower."

Penny beamed, as she always did at compliments from Murderbot. Madison suspected Murderbot had picked up on that and intentionally gave the kind woman who ran their writing group even more compliments because they were so appreciated.

"Now you try," Penny said to Murderbot, who dutifully held up a frosting nail and a cone of light pink frosting.

"You, too," Jake said beside Madison. He pressed his arm against Madison's from shoulder to elbow, and they barely had room to shift away. Their table was crowded with eight people from the writing group as well as Carson and Hanso squeezed in at the end.

Madison thought they caught Carson watching in their peripheral vision but didn't want to look at anyone, even Carson, to know for sure. They'd hoped the large meeting room with its colorful mosaics would be pleasant with only a few dozen people engaged in a silent activity like piping frosting. Instead, several dozen people seemed to be constantly talking, aside from a few moments when they hushed to listen to Peri's calming instructions. And somehow Madison had ended up next to Jake, the most talkative person in their writing group.

"Do you have a favorite rose? Or some other favorite flower?" Jake asked. He was holding a cone of orangish frosting and a frosting nail, but he'd made no attempt to bring the two together yet.

Madison grabbed the nearest frosting and frosting nail off the table and piped out a center glob, keeping their arms tucked tight to their sides. As Jake kept talking and asking questions, Madison focused on forming petals, quickly giving up on dividing each ring into a particular number.

"I assume you like flowers," Jake continued. "I mean most people like flowers, so that wouldn't have anything to do with being nonbinary, would it? I like sunflowers, partly because you can eat the seeds. But frosting flowers are even more edible. I know you like sweets. You seemed to really like the cookies Kei brought to our last meeting. Do you have a favorite kind of cookie or sweet?"

Madison now had a frosting nail pretty much full of lavender frosting that looked like some kind of flower, perhaps a carnation more than a rose. The mention of cookies reminded them of the container they'd brought lined with some of Carson's ginger cookies to decorate. They pulled the lid off one handed and lifted a cookie saying, "Dr. Beckett made these ginger cookies. They're very good."

A moment later, Madison realized they couldn't hold the cookie and use the plastic scissors on the table to remove the flower from the frosting nail. So they set the cookie down and started cutting the frosting flower free just as Jake said, "Let me help."

He moved the cookie to meet the scissors, but Madison got nervous and the whole thing went literally sideways.

"Oops," Jake said, setting down the cookie and moving his finger to his mouth to lick off a smear for purple frosting.

Madison quickly moved the cookie to its proper place in the glass container, despite the slightly mushed flower, and said, "That's okay, the people I'm bringing them too will care more about the sugar than how it looks."

"Certainly McKay will. His love of cookies and chocolate is legendary."

It didn't surprise Madison that Jake knew Rodney was their uncle and had guessed he'd be getting at least some of these cookies. Probably most of the city could put that together by now. But Madison had made a point of not mentioning the relationship to the writing group or anyone else, hoping to be judged on their own merits. And they definitely didn't want to talk about Rodney or the rest being stuck in quarantine.

When Jake instead started enumerating his favorite kinds of sweets, it was actually a relief.

#

Carson was sitting on the narrow seat provided by his walker as everyone else in the workshop was standing. He and Hanso were sharing a frosting nail, and Carson was happy to have time to observe the young people around the table during Hanso's turns.

The way Jake interacted with Madison annoyed Carson, but there was no point at which he felt compelled to interfere. This was Madison's writing group, and they were old enough to make their own decisions and choose their own friends. Most of the people from the group seemed very nice.

Kei was standing next to Carson and had offered to trade frosting colors with him whenever he wanted. When Jake mentioned Kei bringing cookies to the last writing group, Carson asked, "So you bake?"

"A bit," Kei said. "My best recipe is snickerdoodles, which is what Jake's referring to."

"Did you get some of our ginger cookies?" Hanso had shared some extras with the table before they started decorating and before Kei had taken the spot next to them.

"No, I was a little late."

Hanso opened a storage compartment and held a container open for Kei. "Oh, thank you," Kei said, taking a cookie in their momentarily free hand. They waited until they'd finished completely to say, "Those are very good, and spicy! Do you use fresh ginger?"

"I used candied ginger for these," Carson said. "I'm glad you like them. Help yourself."

The teacher, Peri, interrupted then, showing them all how to make leaves, with the helpful advice, "A larger tip makes a larger leaf, which can be useful for covering up mistakes."

Just moments later, someone at the next table over said, "Or you can add them to the art on the wall." A frosting flower then impacted the nearest mosaic with a solid plop. Bright red frosting clung to the corner of a pale blue tile, and the rest slid downward, leaving a shiny red trail.

Peri, who probably hadn't heard the comment beforehand said, "As I mentioned at the beginning, the gel colors in the frosting can stain most fabrics and surfaces. Please be careful."

"Yeah, right. The bots will clean it up," the same person at the next table said as soon as everyone started talking again. This time Carson saw the speaker was a young woman with long black hair. Most of her table was pointedly ignoring her, and probably no one more than a table away could even hear.

"Sonia," the person next to her loud whispered in a tone that was surprisingly easy to hear as well. "What if it stains the tile or the grout? Someone made that art."

"Not much of an artist. And if the bots can't get it clean, that just proves they're not good enough at their jobs." With that, Sonia flicked her latest attempt at a flower so it hit the same wall. This blob of red stuck in a texture area, a pebbled section at the bottom of what might have been a stylized seascape.

At first, it seemed like no one would say anything. Then Madison turned from their own work and stepped quietly to the next table. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it is very upsetting to me to hear you take others' work for granted that way, whether artist or cleaner, whether human or bot."

"Oh, preachy bitch," Sophia's voice rose as she spoke. "I know who you are. You care more about bots than people and are related to McKay, so you have no room to talk about how others act."

Still quiet and level, Madison replied, "If you have a problem with my actions, you're welcome to tell me so clearly and politely. All actions have consequences. Even if the bot that comes to clean that isn't sentient, there may be a supervising bot that is. They may well have to put extra time into redesigning or redeploying mini-bots to fix what you've done. No one makes them clean up your mess. If they ever choose not to, I hope you're prepared to clean up after yourself."

Then Jake was at Madison's side, taking their arm and saying to Sonia, "I hope they make you apologize to the artist you insulted, too."

Carson almost thought he'd misjudged Jake, but then he heard him telling Madison as he dragged them away, "You can't go picking fights like that. She could have punched you out or made you look like a fool." If Carson could hear that from his end of the table, he was sure the rest of the writing group heard and probably Sonia's table as well.

Then Penny said to Murderbot, quietly enough that only their table could hear, "I guess that's why you need to show up for stuff like this, to represent, to remind everyone you have a right to be here."

"I wanted to learn to make frosting flowers." Murderbot motioned to the cookies in front of them, each decorated with a fairly respectable representation of a rose. But Carson saw how Murderbot's gaze slid to Madison while everyone else was admiring the frosting flowers. Madison met Murderbot's look, only for a second, but that was more eye contact than they'd managed with anyone else in the crowded workshop all night.

Murderbot raised their chin. Madison echoed the gesture and smiled a bit. That was it. Their communication completed in a single second, but Carson was pleased to have seen it.

Meanwhile, Jake was droning on about art and artists, completely oblivious. Sonia at the next table was glaring at Jake and Madison's backs, even as the friend beside her loud whispered about being bored and wanting to leave already.

When Carson looked down at the section of table in front of him, Hanso has finished creating roses for all their remaining cookies.

#

The cookies with frosting flowers on top were well received by the team and Taran in quarantine. Carson had kept one for himself, mostly so he could insist Madison try one of their own. It didn't cheer them up the way Carson had hoped, but they put on a good show for their uncle, who was bouncing off the walls even before the sugar.

"Srisuk quarantined the tablet I had last night, the one I took to Lo Seco, because Earth tech isn't designed for the decontamination procedures here the way Ancient tech and BotKin are. I can't even download the images until tomorrow, when he'll probably let us out of here anyway." Rodney waved a half-eaten cookie—now smeared with lavender frosting on almost every surface—as he waved his hands to talk.

"Told him what the inscription seemed to mean," Ronon said at half Rodney's volume from the position he'd chosen barely three feet away from Carson, through the observation window.

Rodney griped, "You told us it meant warning and stay away for some really long period of time."

"More than the Satedan hangers on digging there knew." Ronon cast a hand down in a rare gesture of dismissal.

"Hangers on? Looked to me like they were treasure hunters trying to dig up tech as basic as a water treatment system." Rodney had finished his first cookie and grabbed another, this one with pink frosting from Murderbot's set. "Not that water filtration and what might once have been a decent water treatment center—especially with whatever those pipes were made of—wouldn't be worth a lot right now on that planet, but they were tearing pipes apart. And given how the contaminant ran downstream, they were either carriers already or released something caught in a reservoir. But in his misguided doctoring, the all-knowing Somchai Srisuk won't let me work with Biro to analyze the samples and data I brought back."

Hanso waved antennae in slow circles at that, and Carson prompted the bot quietly, "If you want to check in with Biro and Backup Brain, I'll be fine on my own for the rest of the evening."

Hanso flashed two lights at Carson and then at Ronon. With a smile and nod form Carson and a quick jerk of his head from Ronon, the bot rolled out of the observation area.

Madison and Murderbot showed with their eyes and cameras that they noticed the byplay, but they both nodded along with Rodney's continuing rant. John looked amused, and Teyla and Taran had already drifted into their own conversation on the far side of the quarantine room.

Carson let Rodney's voice wash over him as he asked Ronon, "The people you rescued were Satedan?" Carson hadn't been given any information on the latest refugees, Khun Somchai carefully guarding their privacy until they were well enough to make informed decisions and know the care they received was not conditional on sharing anything more than necessary health information.

"The one well enough to speak claimed a parent was family among the Thoss." The way Ronon said the words showed a longing for his people, even if he didn't want to admit to caring about the group they'd rescued.

Carson remembered Ronon explaining that if he'd chosen to live away from Sateda, as he'd ended up doing without truly choosing, he would have been described as "family among the Dex." He asked Ronon softly, "Did the water system these people were digging up have writing in Satedan?"

"Symbols that may have influenced Old Satedan. Basics I could recognize. Big x-shape that even Earthlings would guess meant 'don't' or 'danger.'"

"Or 'x marks the spot,'" Carson couldn't help but offer.

Ronon shrugged. "All six are sick. Only one was even conscious."

"But you were all in biohazard suits? Is Rodney right about you getting out of quarantine tomorrow?" Carson couldn't help but ask.

"If we pass Somchai's tests. Miss me?"

The look in Ronon's eyes made Carson want to curl into his arms. Ronon must have read that off him. His eyes blinked wider in mischief. "Remember what I told you Satedans feel beneath the skin?"

Of course Carson did, rather than imagining it in his heart, Ronon had grown up feeling love under his skin. Now Carson shivered in his seat just thinking about it.

Ronon swept his eyes over Carson from head to feet then said in his lowest, softest voice, "I'll show you an exercise warriors do while remembering those they left behind. Imagine my touch reaching beneath your skin with every move." Then Ronon took a single step back, placed his feet wide and bent his knees just a little as he stretched both hands forward, flexing his fingers.

Carson could have sworn he felt the touch on his chest, pulsing through him like electricity, flowing across the nerves that ran under his skin. He shivered, letting himself feel every motion, as Ronon reached up, stroked down, and stepped forward in a very suggestive lunge.

When Madison and Murderbot took their leave, Carson barely noticed. John seemed to have corralled Rodney by expressing interest in some image on the recently maligned quarantine tablet. That left Carson and Ronon maybe a meter apart, on opposite sides of an impenetrable barrier. Focused on each other, it was almost as if they were alone.

Carson's body warmed under the hands that reached out to him, shifting from head to floor level, and the gaze that held his own throughout. There was nothing to be embarrassed about, as his body responded with love, not lust. But Ronon was beautiful as he moved, and Carson appreciated his lover's body as well as the mind that came up with this alternative for being together tonight.

#

Murderbot asked, "Want to play some Island Empire when we get home?"

"I can't." Madison's hands clenched and unclenched with pent up emotion. How they'd reacted to the frosting flowers being thrown at the wall troubled them almost as much as the resulting confrontation. All of it pressed down on them, with an invisible and unexplainable weight. "I need to go check on the meeting room."

"Would you like company?" Murderbot asked as if it were the expected response.

Maybe it should be, but Madison hadn't expected it. Their social skills seemed even worse than usual today, and they weren't sure if they wanted company now or not. Madison said, "Sure." Then they wondered why they'd said it and if most people knew what they wanted or whether it matched what they agreed to.

Madison kept putting one foot in front of the other until they reached the building on the Southwest Pier with the meeting room on the ground floor. As they walked inside, the lights turned on, showing a mostly tidy space. The tables used for the workshop had been removed; Madison had no idea where. The floors were clean and shiny. At a glance, no one would know any large event, let alone a messy one, had taken place there barely an hour before.

It was easy for Madison to find the part of the mosaic where the frosting roses had been thrown. While the pieces didn't form a specific picture in their mind, there were layers of blue leading down to a section of tiles that were alternately pebbled or sandblasted, textures that Madison had previously found very calming. Now there was a foot-wide square of clear plastic with a line of wide clear tape leading downward. Beneath the plastic and tape there was semi-transparent cloudy white liquid. Madison could faintly see the colors of the mosaic through whatever the mixture was. They didn't see any reddish tint underneath.

"I think it's soaking," Madison said. "The red frosting must have stained, and someone set this up to soak a vertical surface."

"Probably ArtSweeper," Murderbot said without looking from where they were studying one edge of the mosaic intently.

Madison followed their gaze to a couple of shiny black tiles with words scratched into them. Coming closer, Madison read: "Clean That, Bot!" and "Fuck Bot Lovers."

Something inside Madison clenched tight, from their throat down to their guts. "That's because I argued. Sophia, or a sympathizer, must have come back after everyone left. Maybe after all this was cleaned up. And they responded by carving something that couldn't be repaired."

Murderbot shook their head. "It's illogical. It can't really be because of anything you did because that would imply there was logic to the action."

Barely able to push the words out, Madison squeaked, "I came here because I was upset, not because I really expected to do anything useful. Whoever did that was upset, and for them the way they felt was reason enough to permanently damage someone else's art. But we can't prove it was Sophia, and I don't know what to do that won't make things worse." Madison stood there, staring at the wall, and started to count the tiles up and across from the site of the damage.

"I know one thing to do, but we probably can't start on it until tomorrow," Murderbot interrupted the counting quite effectively. "We find the artist and let them reclaim their work, whether they want to replace those pieces or add something new. Or if they don't want anything to do with it now, we can ask what we might do to help."

"You're a better person than I am," Madison said on an exhale, focusing on breathing deeply.

"No, I'm really not. I was upset when that first flower was thrown, but I did nothing. I was ten times as upset and also angry and sad after the second flower, but I still did nothing." Murderbot lifted a hand almost to Madison's face, not touching or pointing but focusing both their attention just in front of Madison's chin. "You tried. Maybe someone else could have found better words or run models to predict a better course of action. But no one else did. It mattered to me, and probably others, that someone called Sophia on her bad behavior."

"Jake lectured me like I'd made some obvious mistake. I thought everyone else knew better than I did." Madison couldn't take their eyes from Murderbot's raised hand, and after a moment, Murderbot slowly reached forward to clasp Madison's shoulder.

"Were you flirting with him before that?" Murderbot asked with a tilt of their head.

"What? No." Madison shook their head vigorously, trying to shake the idea away.

Murderbot started to gently steer Madison away from the vandalized tiles using the hand still on their shoulder. "I'm more than 95 percent certain he was flirting with you."

"No," Madison wrinkled their nose and then tried to tamp down both their inner and outer recoil. "I mean, I have nothing against him personally, but I can't imagine he'd see me that way. If anything, I think he's curious because I'm nonbinary and maybe because I'm new."

"Kei is nonbinary, and they've been part of the writing group since the beginning. Jake doesn't show any interest in them. I'm new, and he doesn't show any interest in me. How certain are you that I'm wrong?"

Madison recognized the need to give honest feedback. "I've missed it before when people were interested or flirting at me. How about if I keep your theory in mind and let you know if I figure out more?"

"Okay." Murderbot nodded and let go of Madison's shoulder as they both walked out the door single file. "But you're certain you weren't flirting with him?"

With the most dramatic sigh they could ever remember giving anyone, Madison clarified, "I'm certain I'm not interested in him, and I never mean to flirt at anyone. You have no idea how much I suck at this stuff."

"I can work on my model for that and let you know if I figure out more."

#

Long after the frosted cookies were finished and Rodney had taunted John with toy design ideas on his pathetic loner tablet, Ronon finally finished his strange exercise routine. Carson left looking eerily satisfied, but Ronon was pacing the perimeter of the room.

Since John claimed to need sleep, in his own separate infirmary bed, Rodney was restless and bored again. Remembering that Carson had been one part of the group that brought them cookies, and Rodney had sort of agreed to make Ronon something to give Carson already, it seemed as good a time as any to start on that project.

"What kind of electronics did you want me to make?" Rodney stepped in the way of Ronon's pacing to ask.

Ronon looked around at the rest of the room. Teyla and Taran were asleep, and John was at least pretending. It came out as little more than a sigh when Ronon said. "Like a hot plate."

"There are half a dozen people who would give or at least trade you a hot plate on Atlantis. Don't insult my abilities." Rodney crossed his arms and managed to stand up to Ronon's silent stare for once.

"Needs temperature controls. Settings safe for human skin."

The big man whispered so quietly, it made Rodney try to keep his voice down too, if only in hope of a more challenging commission. "If you want a sex toy, it's a lot easier if you just tell me what you want to do with it."

Ronon's eyebrows lowered to an almost straight line above his eyes, but he looked neither angry nor amused. "For sore muscles or cold feet." Then almost as an afterthought he added, "If you want a challenge, make a floppy pillow like that. Got it?"

Realizing Ronon wasn't as stupid as he pretended, Rodney let out a huff even as his mind raced within the stated parameters. "I'm pretty sure we could still buy something suitable on the internet from Earth. But don't worry. I'll find a way to make it better."


	2. Chapter 2

Madison sat up the moment they woke and said, "I thought we could ask the Turthan collective, the ones who deal in fruits and vegetables. Until last month, they lived in that South Pier tower with the meeting room on the ground floor. One of them might know who made the mosaic."

R2-D2 picked his way out of the blanket Madison had dislodged and over to Lassie who was perched on the recently abandoned pillow. Madison had ended up crashing on Murderbot's floor again. For some reason, they hadn't wanted to sleep alone in their own bed. This time, without _Wormhole X-Treme!_ running in the background or BotKin copying messages next to them, they'd slept pretty well.

"I thought of them, too. And you could buy yourself some fruit for breakfast," Murderbot said from their desk.

In under five minutes, Madison was dressed and relatively presentable. Not wanting to bother the Turthans at home in their tower, they headed out toward the morning market.

Lansol, who lived with the medical center group on the ground floor, was basking in the early morning sun as they exited the transporter. "Good venturing together, Madison, Murderbot," he called from an all-purpose medical reclining chair that looked like a souped-up lawn chair with a drink holder and custom pillows attached.

"Good sunlight, Lansol," Murderbot said, a phrase they must have borrowed from Lansol himself, with his vast collection of greetings.

Madison stuck with, "Good morning, Lansol. Do you need anything from the morning market?"

"No, thank you, Healer Follaz already inquired. I am content to breathe sea air and collect vitamin D from the sunlight." Lansol stretched, and his eyes drifted closed.

Part of Madison wanted to clarify what Lansol had heard about vitamin D, but their current errand was more pressing. Besides, Lansol looked too peaceful to interrupt in that moment.

They made their way to the produce booth where three members of the Turthan collective were set up for the morning market. Donil, who was the closest in age to Madison, held out a plate filled with red berries. "Good morning, Madison, Murderbot. Care to sample our tonono berries?"

Madison tried one and said honestly, "Good, but kind of messy." Madison licked their fingers, but the tips stayed red from that one brief touch. The way Donil stared at their lips made Madison guess they were red, too.

"A fair trade for enjoying fresh berries, I think." Donil smiled, and Madison had no idea what to say to that.

Tanil, who was a bit older and generally quieter, bit her bottom lip as she listened in from the other side of the booth. The oldest member of the collective present, Renellar, was busy with a customer and paid the rest of them no mind.

Finally, Murderbot saved Madison by asking, "Do you have something less messy that would make a good breakfast food? Something Madison could eat while walking around would be ideal."

"I have just the thing." Donil held up a long green fruit that could be peeled and eaten like a banana. He'd given Madison a sample when he'd first been teaching them about local fruits and vegetables (a distinction the Turthans didn't make or fully understand, using a word that translated as "produce" to describe all they sold).

"Paca fruit," Madison said, excited to recall the name. "I remember liking that." They pulled out some trading tokens and asked, "How much is it?"

Donil asked for less than a dollar's equivalent, and Madison was happy not to haggle. As he passed them the fruit, the brush of his warm hand against Madison's cold fingers was startling, but also reminded Madison that they had another reason for visiting. "By the way, do you know who made the mosaic in the community meeting room?" Madison gestured with the paca fruit toward the tallest building on the South Pier, and Donil grinned widely.

"No idea," he said. "You could ask Tamiro. She's led groups to make all the murals in this area."

The South Pier had almost as many murals as green spaces, and Madison had had no idea that one person organized them all. "How would I find Tamiro?"

"Try asking at the children's center." Donil waved toward a building beside the largest green space.

"Thanks, we will." Madison started peeling their paca fruit as Donil kept grinning.

Murderbot also thanked Donil before they walked away.

When they reached the children's center and Madison was still eating, Murderbot leaned against a neon bright mural of kids trying to catch lizards and asked, "What do you think of Donil?"

"I don't know. He's friendly." Madison shrugged, taking another bite and studying a pink and green lizard painted with a yellow frill beneath its neck.

"Were you flirting at him?" Murderbot asked, like so many annoying voices from the past.

With a sigh, Madison tried to explain again, "I told you, I never mean to flirt at anyone."

"Have you heard the terms ace, gray-a, or demi-sexual?"

"Yeah, about as long ago as I learned nonbinary." Madison finished their last bite of paca fruit before adding. "Probably I'm somewhere in there. But the word 'nonbinary' meant so much, felt so essential to me. Realizing others saw gender as binary explained all sorts of confusing comments and looks I'd encountered over the years. None of the words for sexuality matter to me that way."

Murderbot persisted. "Do you see any commonality between the times others saw you as flirting?"

"Only that I wasn't being rude, too talkative, or too focused on something else to pay attention to people. But mostly, the times when people say I'm flirting, I can't tell how it's any different from being friendly or sometimes just polite." Madison sighed, "Maybe it's just my version of being socially awkward."

Murderbot turned their cameras away from the mural to focus on Madison. "You're often critical of your own social skills, but with how many people react positively to you, I bet you could get your own way a lot if you tried."

"That sounds horrible and manipulative." Madison flapped the now empty peel from the paca fruit against their thigh and tried to calm down.

Murderbot shrugged. "All communication is manipulative. It wouldn't be training if actions didn't cause reactions, intended or not."

Still troubled by Murderbot's earlier point, Madison tried to clarify. "At least as many people dislike me for reasons I can't fathom as react positively, if that's what you want to call it." Madison was overwhelmed by memories of people flirting, touching, talking, or trying to get some reaction Madison didn't know how to give. The peel thwapped faster and faster against their pantleg as Madison's speech also sped up. "And people who make their living selling or trading stuff probably learn to flirt with or act as if they like almost everyone. My problem is sorting out what's what. When I try to be friends with someone, it tends to end badly." Madison pressed their hands to their eyes, unable to handle any more of this conversation.

"I'll put that in the compost bin for you." Madison felt the peel from the paca fruit being plucked away. It had been hanging from their fingers in front of their face and had probably looked ridiculous. Peeking between two fingers, Madison saw Murderbot throw it into a bright green bin beside the children's center that was decorated with cores, peels, husks, and other bits that recognizably belonged in a compost bin. The distraction helped Madison catch their breath.

As Madison lowered their hands, they noticed a child with fluffy dark hair and a brightly colored scarf staring at them from behind a planter box.

"Hello," Madison said. The child giggled. "My name is Madison, and this is Murderbot," they said as Murderbot returned from the compost bin. "Do you know where we might find Tamiro?"

With another giggle the child skipped away down the pier. At first, Madison assumed they'd have to ask someone else, but then the child was pointing at two adults haggling over bath products. The seller was Esparanata, who Madison had met on their first visit to the morning market. "Do you think that's Tamiro, shopping for bath products?" Madison asked Murderbot as they both started walking that way. "And is that Hanso behind them?" As they approached, Hanso rolled away down the pier, leaving Madison to wonder what a bot would want from a booth that sold soaps and lotions.

Murderbot hung back a step, and Madison realized that while the salespeople at the morning market had all made a point of signing up publicly, Tamiro might not have agreed to train with bots. Madison took a deep breath and said, "Hi, Esparanata. I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Madison, and this is my friend, Murderbot."

"Of course, I remember you, Madison. Did you need some more soap or maybe bath melts or salts? I've heard the tower you moved into has very luxurious bathtubs." The excitement in Esparanta's voice as she mentioned the bathtubs exceeded even Rodney's enthusiasm, which perhaps made sense from someone who sold bath products. "Have you met Tamiro?"

When there was a pause to let Madison talk, they stuttered out, "Um, maybe I'd like bath melts? I haven't tried my new bath tub yet, but I like the soap you made. And I'm very pleased to meet you, Tamiro. I was told you organized most all the murals around here." When no one else spoke immediately, Madison added, "We were just admiring the one with kids catching lizards over there." Madison started to point, remembered that was rude in some cultures, and turned the gesture into an open-handed wave.

"Why thank you, Madison," Tamiro said before looking right past them. "Murderbot, I'm very pleased to meet you. I added my name to the list for speaking with bots but haven't had much opportunity until now. I would love to talk with you about art and perhaps you could join our next mural making group."

"Pleased to meet you," Murderbot said with a calm nod. "I would be interested to learn about mural making, and I'm also curious about the mosaics in the city council meeting room."

"The mosaics are a bit of a mystery. No one has claimed credit so far as I know, and I believe I would have heard if it were one of our usual artists. Perhaps the city council commissioned them? But give me a moment to finish up here." Tamiro turned back to Esparanata who had been wrapping a bundle in waxy paper. "Could you wrap up one extra of the bubbly bath melts for me to give to Madison here?" There was no exchange of credits that Madison could see, but they were sure some form of credit or payment was arranged.

"Thank you, I'm sure I'll enjoy it," Madison said half to Tamiro and half to Esparanata who was handing her the tiny bundle wrapped up like a square of gum. If Tamiro had been male, such a gift might have been seen as a way of flirting on Earth. But Madison didn't think Tamiro came from Earth, and they'd never been comfortable with how gender played into such assumptions. They wondered how pansexual people gauged flirting from nonbinary people compared to other genders, but it made their head spin to guess about so many assumptions. For whatever reasons, they were pretty sure no one would see their interaction with Tamiro as flirtatious.

"Of course," Tamiro said, before turning all her attention to Murderbot. They were about of a size, but compared to Murderbot's open, Spartan construction, Tamiro was all curves, although Madison saw lines of obvious muscle underlying the exposed flesh of Tamiro's shoulders. They guessed mural making was a fairly strenuous activity, even before Tamiro told Murderbot about grinding up beetles to create the radiant colors they'd wanted for the lizard mural. "It's based on a children's story told by the Athosians, and an Athosian elder I asked said the lizards ate these glowing beetles, and that gave them the extra shine or gloss the children watch for. It's mostly a teaching fable, to show even small children can be effective hunters and overcome fear or self-doubt. Most of the first generation of children on Atlantis were at least part Athosian and this was one of our earliest murals."

"The paint doesn't look weathered," Murderbot said.

The smile Tamiro gave her looked judgmental to Madison, as if that hadn't been an acceptable response.

Tamiro said, "There's some coating on all the buildings here. Is it bots that add it to newly finished art? I never thought to ask."

Murderbot shrugged. "I don't know. I could ask a SamplerBot."

"Very good. You could invite the SamplerBot to come meet the next group as well. They're meeting down by the Ferris wheel near closing time on the next large market day. That's four days from now. Will you come and discuss mural designs with us? We want to be inclusive, and we always welcome new ideas."

"I cannot speak for any SamplerBots, but I will do my best to be there." Murderbot motioned to Madison, "May others join as well?"

With a slight inclination of her head toward Madison, Tamiro said, "Madison and other bots are more than welcome, but we do need to limit the size of our group somewhat. I'm sure you understand. We'll see you then."

As Tamiro walked away, leaving them in front of the lizard mural again, Madison said, "Well that was a bit of a dead end."

Madison shrugged, "You have something to try in the bath, and we're both invited to learn mural making. We could follow her suggestions to ask someone on the city council. I've heard Dr. Khoza has daily office hours, much like you do."

"When are his?"

"Not until four this afternoon."

Madison tapped their foot as they said, "Maybe we could track down Teyla at lunch. She's on the city council and actually lives on the South Pier."

Murderbot didn't object but said, "Khoza recently requested a place in our tower. Did you hear the community meeting was rescheduled for tonight, assuming all residents are freed from quarantine?"

Madison slumped back against the lizard mural. It hadn't yet warmed in the morning light, so Madison's shoulders tensed at the chilly contact. "I feel like I've already had enough of dealing with people for today. But maybe we could check up on the mosaic before heading back to the central tower. At least we can see if the plastic covering has been removed from the stained areas."

The tall building with the large meeting room was on their way back to the central tower anyway. It took only a moment to step inside, and Madison was surprised to find the lights already shining at full brightness. As they turned toward the location of the damage, Madison saw a person crouching right where the carved words had been added.

They were about to shout, thinking the vandal had returned, when Murderbot stepped forward and said, "ArtSweeper, are you working with this BioKin?"

The flat round bot rolled forward from where they'd been nearly hidden in the shadow of the couching figure. "Yes, this is Yotip, a master mosaicist."

At this introduction, Yotip stood, one hand holding a glowing stick and the other a pot of silver powder. "I am Yotip."

"Hi, I'm Madison."

"And I am called Murderbot. Were you the artist who made all this?"

"I played a part, in accordance with my calling." Yotip spoke softly but stood tall.

"We're pleased to meet you," Madison said, trying to offer reasonable eye contact. "We were sad that someone damaged your work, and we tried to find you to see what you wanted to do, but I guess you have everything in hand."

Yotip raised both hands to display his materials. "I cannot roll back time, but I have transformed what the kind BotKin told me were words of hate into rivulets of silver."

Madison and Murderbot moved forward to see the defaced black tiles were now traced with myriad silver lines in a chaotic pattern like a root system or perhaps water rushing around a rock fall.

"That's beautiful," Madison said. Glancing to the side, they saw the plastic and whatever had been soaking to clean the wall beneath it had been cleared away, removing all trace of red dye.

"I am glad you think so." The mosaicist settled back to the floor where it was now clear he was gathering up his materials. "ArtSweeper is going to cover this wall with their protection, as on the outsides of buildings, as soon as this is fully set. We hope that will prevent such actions in future."

"Would you want us to speak with the city council or to try to confirm who did this so they could be punished?" Madison asked.

"Not on my behalf. I prefer to remain unknown and place my creations in trust for the future. I came back this once because ArtSweeper did not know how to handle this part before adding their own protection. I will go now. I wish you both well into the future."

Then he was gone and Murderbot asked ArtSweeper, "Would you like us to stay and help in any way?"

ArtSweeper gave three shrill beeps and twisted frantically side to side. Even Madison could tell ArtSweeper wanted them out of the way and to stop being social.

#

Rodney's response to being released from quarantine had taken on a nearly Pavlovian quality. As he and John walked silently down the corridor that led to their customary supply closet, the words "best blow job of my life" rang through Rodney's mind in John's voice. Rodney was already half hard and more than ready to embrace this newly reclaimed tradition.

With less than two meters to the supply room door, Cirillo came around a corner and said, "Sheppard, glad I found you. Now that you're out of quarantine, our Chief Medical Officer has given us limited permission to question one of the refugees you brought back from Lo Seco yesterday. While I'm sure you had the best of intentions, I hope you appreciate the position you put the expedition in. I'd like you to lead the questioning so I can report back to the IOA about repeated medical use of the charter clause meant to protect our co-combatants."

"Certainly, sir," John turned to Rodney and said, "I'm sorry about the timing. Um, later maybe—"

"Yes, of course. I have more than enough actual science to do!" Rodney stomped off, not really mad at his lover, but frustrated nonetheless. Given his current physical state, he wouldn't mind taking a long, hot shower before blowing John's mind later. And if John took too long, he could pay Rodney back by testing out his latest toy designs.

#

Lansol was just finishing his physical therapy when Carson showed up for his turn at dialysis.

Groaning, the younger man settled in his wheelchair by the window. "Good lie down to you, Healer Carson. Has Ronon been restored to you yet? I heard he and the others would soon leave quarantine. Our tower community meeting has been rescheduled for tonight on their behalf."

Carson had hoped the meeting could wait at least one more day, but he tried to school his expression. "They're not back yet. How are you, Lansol?" Carson had set all the necessary dials and tubes to their starting positions, but he sat back in the recliner bed and waited as Hanso checked everything over and then covered Carson with a blanket. He wasn't cold but appreciated it anyway.

"I am eager for Healer Biro to approve the orvo transplants and whatever anti-rejection treatment my body needs to accept both liver and kidney. I understand some of that research involved your work as well as what was done in the past to your own body, and I greatly appreciate your contributions. I find it hard to believe how much work all these people are doing to make sure the surgery will be safe and I will be as fit as possible to begin it."

"You must know some of the mistakes we've made in the past," Carson said as the machines he was attached to started up and he was reminded of his own vulnerability. "Even now, it seems people on Lo Seco think we started a plague under the guise of stopping the Bad Blood."

"Some people like to blame others." Lanso's shoulders rose a bit as he lifted his chin to say proudly, "I have been fortunate enough to outlive my death twice, first escaping from the Wraith, later from the Bad Blood. Strangers helped me beyond any reasonable expectation in both cases. Even if I do not survive my orvo transplants, I will not blame anyone here. If my death showed a way to make these transplants safer for others, I would carry that legacy proudly."

Having experienced too close to the same thoughts about his own death in the not too distant past, Carson couldn't help but say, "You're still young. Isn't there something more you want to live for?"

"If I live, I hope to train with the Network of Healers. I am good with a knife and am also a hearty traveler. Perhaps I could become a traveling healer and tell others of my own experiences. I could refer those who sorely need dialysis or transplants to medical centers here or elsewhere, should such hopes become reality." Lansol raised a hand weakly toward Hanso. "Do you think there might be traveling healer bots in our future? I've heard you captured a sample of the illness on LoSeco and that you can carry samples and medicines inside yourself without fear of contagion. Now that the Wraith are gone, we will have more elders or others who may not travel for medical help. Would those like you wish to bring them help and hear their stories? I know I would appreciate traveling with one such as you."

Hanso blinked three lights and said, "I do not know if I would leave Atlantis, but your plan sounds sensible to me."

Carson realized in that moment that he was counting on the xenodonor option as well, but he needed to speak with Ronon before discussing it with anyone else.

Carson wondered if Biro would let him try first. Different standards would apply given Carson's more fully informed consent and medical knowledge. And they wouldn't be trying to transfer Carson's immune factors to someone else in combination with the first trial of the new surgery.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Dr. Biro arrived on the fifth floor accompanied by Taran. "Good news, Somchai let a few of us talk to his new patient, the healthiest of those most recently brought back from LoSeco. Between what he said and samples Rodney and Ronon collected, we know who to blame for the latest epidemic."

"And who might that be?" Carson asked to humor her.

"The legendary lizard people," Biro announced with a triumphant smirk.

Taran clenched her teeth, looking less than amused but not saying anything.

"Seriously, once we manage the current emergency on Lo Seco, I want to research who these people were. Evidently other planets have tales of technologically advanced lizard people, too. The water treatment system they left behind is certainly more sophisticated than what the Romans had. And the virus that caused this outbreak seems to have been intentionally imbedded beneath the surface of the water pipes. It looks like they meant to poison rodents who tried to chew through the pipes, but it would have gotten into their water system if the rodents made it through or if a pipe even cracked in certain ways. The deterrent only makes sense if the people who built the pipes were immune to something that can poison anything from rodents to humans. They may or may not have been lizard people, but I'd still love a sample of their DNA."

"Dear Healer Biro," Lansol said, "Let me become an orvo-person and I will seek out stories and habitations of lizard people as I travel to tell of your good work."

"I have your consent on record, Lansol, but these things take time." Biro moved to stand beside Lansol, sharing his view out the window as she said it. Perhaps that was her way of softening the blow, even if she would never compromise her standards on medical issues.

"A simpler explanation is that the so-called lizard people immunized themselves," Carson volunteered.

Biro smiled, "And wouldn't we like to know about that as well."

#

Hanso had stayed to consult with Dr. Biro, but Carson wasn't chilled or tired after dialysis this time. His mind was turning over everything Lansol had said. Carson planned to rest and think it all through but was immediately distracted when he saw Ronon standing in their kitchen. His lover was freshly showered with damp curls glistening around his ears. He held a half-eaten sandwich in one hand and a collavo fruit in the other.

"Want some?" Ronon asked, smiling big with the juice of the collavo practically dripping from his lips.

"I ate before dialysis."

Ronon held a section of the deep orange collavo almost to Carson's mouth. The color and the way it came apart into sections had worried Rodney at first, because it reminded him of citrus fruits on Earth, but it had turned out to be more related to guava if anything.

Carson opened his mouth and let Ronon feed him the bite size morsel. It was sweet with a heavy aftertaste that Carson actually liked more in isolation, focusing on just one bite, than in the salads and glazes he'd tried it in before.

Ronon wolfed down the rest of his food and washed his hands and mouth at the kitchen sink. Then he motioned with his head to their room, and Carson gratefully followed along, barely needing the cane he'd been using that day.

Once they were inside with the door closed, Ronon asked, "Want a massage? Still have some of Taran's ointment."

"I soaked in the tub between physical therapy this morning and my lunch. I'm not sore in the ways massage or ointment can fix." Despite all the progress Carson had made, his body always hurt somewhere. If nerves weren't twinging or joints aching, there was the constant feeling that he'd somehow overextended himself and his muscles couldn't take much more.

"Still like to touch you. Find something that feels good?" Ronon stepped close, within touching distance, but didn't touch.

It was only then that Carson noticed Ronon was in his softest and most comfortable clothes, what Carson thought of as his lounge pants and fuzzy shirt. The pants were loose. The shirt clung to Ronon's muscles because it was stretchy, but whatever it was woven from felt softer than angora. Both pants and shirt were a deep, sable color that suited Ronon well. Carson had the sudden urge to pet the shirt and muscles beneath, but let himself collapse back onto their bed instead.

"Feel free to touch me any way you want. I'd planned on a bit of a lie down anyway."

Ronon smiled down at him, letting their knees interleave at the edge of the bed. "Irresistible." In only a moment he had Carson naked and laid out lengthwise on the bed. Leaning down, he kissed Carson's shoulder reverently then stroked the length of his body from shoulders to feet.

"Rodney owed me, so I let him make a hot pad thing. Let me try it under you while you're not sore, so you can tell me how it feels." Ronon pulled something rectangular and honey-colored from the drawer by their bed. It flopped like a thin vinyl pillow but felt more like cloth under Carson's back. It quickly heated to warmer than body temperature, which was pleasant given the slightly chilled room where Carson was now lying naked on top of his comforter.

"Want it warmer?" Ronon asked.

"This is pleasant." Carson tried not to think about what had led to Rodney owing Ronon such a thing. It felt soothing against his skin and under constantly sore muscles.

"It can vibrate, too, though I didn't ask for that."

Carson smiled at Rodney's presumption but only asked, "Show me the controls?"

Ronon showed him one slider for temperature and one for vibration. Carson experimented with each as his lover returned to offering long strokes along the sides of Carson's body.

"Rodney did a nice job at keeping it simple for once," Carson commented. "But I doubt we want to ask what else he's been designing with heat and vibration."

"He offered to make us sex toys."

After a spit take, Carson said, "Just like that? Was this in the quarantine room in front of everyone?"

"Most were sleeping. Turns out he can kind of whisper." Ronon's tone stayed completely level, and he didn't crack a smile.

Carson stretched out, letting go of the controller. He'd learned not to tell Ronon when his body wasn't interested in sex. It almost never was, and Ronon seemed to think expecting such reactions ahead of time interfered with enjoying oneself or each other. Instead, Carson watched Ronon's powerful arms stroke lightly up and down. Ronon was studying where his hands passed as if checking for goose bumps or flushed skin. Or maybe it was a sort of meditation, as Ronon's body relaxed and moved more sinuously with each stroke.

When Ronon finally spoke, the words flowed with the motion. That kept them from surprising Carson or sounding like a demand. "Tell me how it feels to you."

The first time Ronon had explored Carson's body, he'd shared pieces of Satedan language and interpretations that Carson never could have guessed. Not having anything like that to offer, Carson gave the most honest response he could. "It's like a glass of cool water after days breathing hot dry air."

"For me too," Ronon said. "Tell me more?"

There was a plea in the question, almost like Ronon was begging, which he didn't need to do. Carson would give him anything, if only he knew what to offer. He tried to put his experience of Ronon into words. "The way you relax into your touches makes me feel like a painting or a garden, something you're tending but that also helps you to relax. Not that I feel like an object. I want to be part of whatever this is to you."

"You know how Earthlings talk about finding their muse?" Ronon waited for Carson to nod understanding. "Satedans have something like that but beyond art, someone that brings out a better or gentler side in a person. Even last night when I couldn't touch you, it was like that for me."

"It felt like you were reaching under my skin, the way you talked about feeling love." Carson's eyes half closed at the memory.

"Feels like I'm touching more than your skin now. Touching you means more." There was a long pause as Ronon's touch became feather light. He traced circles around Carson's stomach and below, to what Satedans called the echna. Carson felt a glimmer of the Satedan desire to merge as if Ronon were explaining it all over again. What Ronon said instead was, "As a Runner, when I'd imagine touching someone again, I'd wonder how many hours—how many days—I could sit stroking someone like this before my want faded or until the one being touched couldn't enjoy it anymore."

"If I reach a point where I don't enjoy your touch, it will be my body failing me rather than me not wanting you."

"But in a few hours, you might get bored," Ronon said, fingers still feather light.

It sounded like a challenge. "If you always touched the same places, I might acclimate," Carson felt a bit more awake, like this was important to say for more than this moment. "Or I might become oversensitized. But when you say it means more, I feel that too. I love the idea of your touch and of wanting to see how many hours this could stretch on and on. Even if my practical side suggests reasons it won't work out."

"Let me try." Ronon's voice was husky and made Carson shiver.

Caron nodded.

Looking him right in the eye Ronon said, "Tell me if those practical reasons come up. Wouldn't want to go on past that."

"Understood," Carson agreed, loving the way Ronon focused all his attention in moments like this. "And I could switch to stroking you at some point, if you want."

Ronon shrugged. "We'll see." With that, Ronon's spread his hands flat. From palms to finger tips, with both hands he could cover most of Carson's torso side to side. The warmth and slight roughness ghosted down Carson, splitting at his legs, then coming together on the way back up, only to split again and wrap more than half way around his arms.

If that touch made Carson warm, the next pass with fingertips made every hair stand on end. Carson wasn't quite cold, but the warmth and vibration under his back became an opposite extreme. Carson let his eyes close completely and lost himself to the varying pressure and positions of his lover's sly hands.

When the vibration under his spine was more a distraction than a comfort, Carson said, "I've had enough of the vibration under me for now."

"Want to try it on top?"

"Where?" Carson asked without opening his eyes or caring much.

Deftly, Ronon slid the still warm and vibrating pillow to cover Carson's hips and cock. Before that moment, Carson couldn't have said where exactly his cock was resting. But he couldn't ignore the burst of pleasure the warm vibrations triggered in that new location.

"Feels good?" The amusement was clear in Ronon's voice.

"Not what I was expecting, but it is very nice for now." Carson opened his eyes to see the fond smile Ronon wasn't hiding. "Honestly, it reminds me of an awkward moment with my cousin's tabby cat when I was a teenager. It was the first time our family gathered at that cousin's house, and I didn't realize there was a cat until this huge, heavy creature jumped onto my lap and started purring and needing my leg with almost painful claws. I started petting, which somehow stopped the claws but doubled the volume of the cat's purr. It also doubled the vibration, and while I wasn't a particularly lustful young man, I didn't have a lot of control at that age. My body responded. And there were relatives all around the room. I figured the least embarrassing option was to keep the cat happy and settled there until my erection eased away on its own."

"And did it?" Ronon asked.

"Not for a very long while. But the cat did cooperate by staying put." Carson could feel his face warming at the memory, something he'd never thought to tell another soul.

"The cat must have liked how you petted it in return."

"I felt a little guilty that night," Carson admitted, "about getting turned on by a cat. But it never happened again, so I put it down to the vagaries of adolescence."

"And now?" Ronon asked, his voice low and husky.

"I'm afraid that burst of sensation is already fading. Would you like to try draping this toy across your lap instead?"

"Later maybe." Ronon didn't sound disappointed, the distinctions between sexual and nonsexual experiences not seeming to matter as much to him. "Happy touching you for now. Want to try rolling over?"

Carson turned off both heat and vibration and set the gift aside. Then he rolled to his front.

Ronon went from light touches to something closer to massage all the way down Carson's back and then up and then down. Once again drifting on sensation, Carson was surprised to find his eyes filling with tears. Ronon was stroking his buttocks and upper thighs with tender light touches. It wasn't flirtatious or expectant. Carson didn't know what it was except that it was different from anything he'd experienced before.

Then Ronon stilled, fingers barely touching just below Carson's hip bones.

"Are you hurting somewhere?" Ronon asked.

The true answer was that Carson almost always hurt somewhere, but he knew that wasn't what was being asked. "No, nothing bad. Just emotions springing up in response to all this."

"Sad emotions?" Ronon asked, still barely touching.

"Not really," Carson tried to answer as honestly as he could. "A desire to live, when less than a month ago I'd made my peace with death. Amazement that anyone could touch me the way you do, and perhaps a bit of melancholy that I didn't know this sooner. Please don't stop unless you want to."

"Not sure I'll ever want to stop." With that, Ronon traced warm circles with his palms and then glided wide open hands down Carson's thighs. "Is there more you're willing to tell me?"

"I'm still not comfortable with my own desires, and I'm a little afraid of not living up to yours or others."

"You have nothing to live up to with me. I want whatever we can have." A careful tracing with fingertips along the tendons and muscles of Carson's legs seemed to illustrate Ronon's words.

Still feeling solemn but not tearful, Carson said, "I think part of why I didn't return to Atlantis when I realized I might die was that I didn't want to be put in stasis again."

"Wasn't worth it before?" Ronon's tone carried no judgement.

"It was in the end, but I didn't do it for me. It was mostly for Rodney. He wasn't ready to let me go and believed they could save me fast enough." Carson tensed from his stomach outward, but Ronon stroked him through it, working back up Carson's legs to his torso and arms. "I was afraid of waking up to people I didn't know, a world that didn't want me or wanted me for reasons I couldn't trust."

"Don't do it again if you don't want to," Ronon spoke as if it were simple, but then he went on to prove how much more he knew. "There was something about that in the proposal for this tower. It seemed oddly specific at the time, but in the section about basic medical freedoms there was a list that included respecting each community member's beliefs on how to live, when to die, and whether to enter a state where they might be revived later."

Carson's mood shifted as he remembered reading that. "I thought Murderbot put that in to avoid bots being paused and then reactivated years later, as happened to the first four BotKin Rodney worked with."

"Was written to apply to everyone. Murderbot knows a lot and is clever with words. Might even have known what happened to you before." Ronon huffed a soft half laugh. "Hanso knew enough about you to follow you home and never leave."

Carson had never imagined Murderbot considering him while writing the proposal for the new community led tower, but they had been trained partly by MedBot 1, now called Backup Brain, who would have known all about the stasis pods and Carson's history with them. If that resonated with Backup Brain's experience of deactivation, they might well have pointed it out to Murderbot.

Then Ronon asked, "Does this fear of not living up to others' desires have to do with not wanting my kidney and liver?"

Carson opened his mouth to say "no" but stopped under Ronon's gentle touch. Ronon was petting the inner edge of Carson's forearms, a spot he'd found surprisingly erotic the first time they'd done something like this. Now it felt surprisingly vulnerable, or maybe he was feeling that way already.

"I know Pilialim makes this all seem easy, but there can be complication and infections. Her incision was already more invasive than her sister's needed to be for receiving the kidney. There's no knowing how that and a second surgery to donate part of your liver might compromise you in a fight later. What if someone hit you where the incisions had been? I'd sooner try organs from that pig-like animal Biro recommended than risk you like that."

Ronon circled a flat hand on Carson's back saying, "Relax. While I disagree, I respect that it's your decision. Are you actually considering the orvo transplants?"

"Lansol seems ready to try it, whether I do or not. It seems more logical for me to go first, since others would be relying on my immune protections to make it work."

After leaning down to kiss below Carson's jaw and then kneed at his shoulders and neck, Ronon said, "Sounds like you're still trying to put someone else's needs ahead of your own."

"Maybe I'm just looking for an excuse," Carson offered, almost wanting to be judged.

Ronon only responded with deeper stroking and a question. "To live?"

"I don't know." Carson could feel tears rising inside him again. "Sometimes it's easier to see what I can do for others than what I should do for myself."

Ronon ran fingers up into his hair. "Let yourself feel for a while. Take all the time you need with this and with deciding what you want."

It seemed impossible. It turned out to be easy.

The way Ronon rubbed his scalp made Carson what to purr like that long ago tabby cat. He relaxed into the touch, felt the start of a headache he hadn't even noticed recede. Every part of his body seemed to amplify the shift of hair brushing his ears and forehead, the hint of nails along the hollow of his neck.

When Ronon traced down Carson's body again, it was all new. It seemed impossible that Carson could ever tire of Ronon's touch. He was flooded with endorphins and feeling no pain. It reminded him of Danisius saying she'd forgotten how it felt to be healthy. He wanted that. How could he not? While he might not be willing to risk Ronon, it didn't bother him to harvest organs from an animal he was willing to eat as bacon.

Thinking of bacon reminded Carson of Madison's bacon treats, the ones they'd taken to quarantine for their chosen family. Their forever family. Carson wasn't ready to say it yet, wasn't going to make commitments while floating on endorphins and overwhelmed by Ronon's hands on his skin. But he was pretty sure he'd decided, for himself and all he really desired.

#

By the time a distinctive knock came on their interior door, the sky was already shading into purples and casting long shadows across their room.

"Yes, Hanso?" Carson said, without moving from where he lay naked on top of Ronon.

"Hello, Carson, Ronon," Hanso greeted as they rolled in through the bot door, possibly having just arrived in the bot lift. The mechanics were so quiet and the walls so well soundproofed, it was impossible to tell. With all they'd been through together in the last month, neither Carson nor Ronon, nor Hanso for that matter, worried about what Hanso saw. "The others have made dinner and wanted me to remind you that the community meeting was rescheduled for half an hour from now."

Carson groaned as Ronon's hands stroked down his back again. "I feel like we have to go."

"Don't have to. What do you want?" Ronon asked.

"I want this to go on forever," Carson said, pressing a kiss to the super soft shirt beneath his cheek. "But the practical part of me says we'd have to take breaks for meals, sleep, and other necessities anyway. Maybe we could see this as a break, with a promise to come back to this after?"

"Works for me," Ronon said, without any cessation of petting.

Carson sighed and relaxed against him. "Hanso, could you let the others know we'll be out soon, but they shouldn't wait for us."

Hanso blinked three lights and rolled back into the bot lift, the most private way for them to exit.

"Thank you," Carson said, mostly to Hanso, but a little bit to Ronon and the universe at large.

#

The tower-wide meeting on the fifteenth floor was BYOC (Bring Your Own Chair) so Rodney brought his desk chair with laptop, tablet, and customized Life Signs Detector stacked on top. Everyone started with the usual boring pleasantries, including each groups' bizarre variations on wishing each other luck, health, or prosperity. Rodney didn't really look up from his tablet until someone complained about John.

"I know he's the military commander, but we postponed this meeting twice because his team was offworld and then in quarantine." It was one of the gamer merfolk who'd claimed the sixteenth floor—the one with tri-color purple hair—complaining.

"Seriously," Rodney snorted, "The guy hasn't made it home to shower yet and you're worried about him missing this meeting? You're going to argue, again, about naming the tower after Beckett or the hippogriffs. You're lucky Sheppard doesn't care or he'd start calling it the 'Puddle Scraper' and you'd be stuck explaining that to visitors for the next fifteen years. You're going to argue about procedures for admitting new residents, and once again reject letting each current floor decide for one other, placing any kind of quota, or having anything logical like a point system. So you'll then devolve to gossiping about each applicant and trying to bribe other floors to support your friends' petitions. Sheppard doesn't care who lives where and isn't going to tell you any of the good dirt he has on anyone, because he actually takes his job here seriously." Looking out at the stunned faces around him, Rodney couldn't help adding, "Why don't we try starting with a decision this group might be able to handle. What kind of furniture do we want for this common floor?"

"Beanbags!" Madison shouted and was echoed by several merfolk.

"Sectional sofas," one of the dragon gamers suggested, "and Norton can make custom tapestries."

"We would like to suggest a few plants and adding color to the walls and ceiling," the matriarch from the bakers' family put in.

"What if we let any resident add their own art to decorate the walls in any common area?" Madison suggested.

"Could we also put up shelves if we make them look nice?" Murderbot asked and several CatBots beeped or waved their antennae enthusiastically from the floor or various people's laps.

Someone, probably one of the gamers, had started typing a "suggestions list" and projected it on two opposite walls, since those present had seated themselves in a rough oval, facing the center of the room.

"Nice," someone with short green hair whistled, probably a merfolk. "We should keep space clear on those two walls for projections during meetings, parties, or theater."

"Perhaps some accessible seating," Carson suggested from his wheelchair. Ronon grunted from a folding stool beside him.

"I'm fine with all of that, but maybe we should agree on color schemes at least?"

Rodney had lost track of who was saying what as he sent John a message asking, "Are you ever coming home? You could fake an emergency to get me out of this meeting."

Meanwhile voices around him said:

"How about cool colors for this floor and warm colors for the fifth floor, where people are more active?"

"This floor is for parties and stuff too."

"Isn't the tenth floor supposed to be for arts and media?"

"Maybe we should invite people off the waitlist first, so they can all take part in these discussions."

Rodney heard groans from at least four directions at that. The gamer projecting the lists said, "This all looks fine to me, and wouldn't it be great to start one of these meetings by agreeing on something? I move we accept the entire list as one proposal, no amendments, no discussion. All agreed?"

There were cheers and various version of "yes" or "why not."

When the same gamer asked, "Is anyone opposed?"

There was a hush, a single cough. For the first time in four, now five, tower-wide meetings, it appeared they'd reached consensus.

"The proposal passed. I'm the secretary, and I'm putting that in the minutes." Rodney was pretty sure the secretary was the dragon gamer who made the hippogriff tapestry. There would probably be a lot of tapestries in their meeting room's future, but Rodney was moderately proud of himself for getting things off to such a good start.

#

Two hours into the tower-wide meeting they stopped for a snack and stretch break. Madison had been full up on social interactions before the meeting even started, so they wandered to the far corner of one large window. Unlike the residential floors in the tower, this one was all open space, aside from a few large pillars, one small storage room, and bathrooms next to the transporter and main bot lift.

There was no place to hide. No chance for privacy.

Madison would have liked to eat some of the fudge they'd made and brought for the party, but the snack tables, set up near one of the opaque walls, were swarming with people. There were 61 BioKin in attendance and 11 BotKin. Madison had counted. Other than John, whose absence had been remarked upon, the only people missing were the kids and one adult from the bakers' family and most of the first floor patients and healers. Frustrating as it might be, these meetings were direct democracy in action, and as someone who'd at least helped write the tower proposal, Madison felt obligated to stay until the end.

"Madison, would you like some grapes?"

Madison recognized Donil's voice without moving their head, but felt obliged to move anyway and answer, to be polite. Then they started wondering how to be polite without being perceived as flirting, and they started tapping one foot just to keep from hiding their eyes again. "Hi, Donil."

"Grapes?" He held a small bunch of greenish yellow grapes out to where they could easily reach. He had a similar bunch in his other hand, which he couldn't conveniently eat unless Madison accepted the ones being offered.

"Thanks," Madison said, thinking that was safe at least.

"Are you upset with the lack of progress?" he asked, before popping one of his own grapes into his mouth.

"Not really. It would be nice to decide, but I'm not eager to have even more people to decide with."

Donil laughed as if Madison had said something funny. They were used to that. At least they had grapes to eat, which worked as an excuse not to talk until Murderbot came over to join them.

"Am I interrupting?" Murderbot asked.

"Not at all," Madison said, perhaps too fast to be polite, but they were beyond caring.

"I noticed neither of you looked happy with the new request from Dr. Khoza to join our tower, but you didn't say why. Members of the Emerald Dragon Clan are working the room to build support for him, and it seems like he could be a powerful ally. Do either of you have reservations you'd like to tell me about?"

Donil and Madison met each other's eyes for the first time, finding themselves unexpected allies in this.

"There are rumors he works for the same Earth power that appointed Cirillo, or maybe a competing faction within that group," Donil spoke quietly.

"Do you mean Stargate Command? Almost every Earthling here works for Stargate Command," Murderbot commented.

"No," Donil blinked and pointed at his eye as if that was supposed to mean something.

Madison felt like they'd fallen into some old spy movie, but Murderbot guessed, "The IOA."

The way Donil glanced around the room, as if no one should say that name out loud, was both amusing and worrying.

"According to official documents, Khoza does not work for them." That Murderbot had researched this was a surprise to Madison. "But he has had dealings with prominent members of the IOA in the past, including receiving grants for his academic work."

"I don't understand Earth politics," Khoza said. "But it seems safer to stay out of it."

Norton, their self-appointed meeting secretary, who had more or less taken over, called for everyone to sit down before Madison needed to comment. But then Murderbot stepped between them and the groups saying, "Anything you're willing to tell me about Khoza?"

"Nothing real." Madison's foot was still tapping and they'd finished the grapes that had kept their hands occupied. It was going to be hard to sit still with everyone watching each other in a circle, but at least they only had to explain this to Murderbot and not all the rest. "He made me uncomfortable that one time, when I met him at the big citywide event. But I don't want to hold that against him. Teyla would probably make me just as uncomfortable if I first met her that way."

"They are both powerful, but Teyla is already allied with Rodney and John. The dragons are trying to make a power play, but I think you feel safer with the power base you have."

"It sounds selfish when you put it like that," Madison said.

The room was already growing quiet around them as Murderbot said, "We should sit down."

Over the next hour, the group decided to give floors eight, eleven, and thirteen to groups that included Lauren (who Madison didn't like), Esparanata (who Madison liked), and a group of local leatherworkers Madison had never interacted with. All the newer applicants, including Khoza's group, were left on a waiting list for future discussion.

Madison thought the meeting might end then, but Norton announced there were three items of new business on the agenda. "Let me read all three in case any of them influence discussion on the others. First, the residents of floor three have asked if they could plant food bearing trees or bushes in all or part of the roof garden. They are willing to negotiate the details directly with H511, who is currently in charge of the roof garden and basement mushroom farm, if others approve. Second, the residents of floor sixteen asked about installing separate doors from their common room to the second bedroom in each suite. Third, the first floor asked about reserving the fourth floor for future patients or healers who might need or work with the medical and physical therapy facilities on the fifth floor. The floor is now open for discussion of new business."

Madison swallowed a laugh at the final use of floor and the ordering of items as first, second, and third while including a floor number in each item. They were pretty sure Norton intended both wordings to be humorous but were not quite certain enough to laugh out loud when no one else did.

When H511 raised an appendage, everyone looked their way, because they so rarely spoke in meetings. "I am open to planning for new trees or bushes for the roof garden, but both the first and second items might more easily be addressed by activating the optional balconies on the floors in question."

There was a sudden commotion, mostly involving a lot of people asking questions of each other or directed at H511, who was slow to answer at the best of times. When Murderbot stood up, all eyes immediately turned to them and most of the chatter quieted down. "It seems that some of you may not have accessed the architectural plans for this tower, but I can offer a brief summary. I believe you've all been informed that bot lift access to each floor needs to be initialized by someone with ATA, that's Ancient Technology Activation, if you want bots to clean, repair, or even visit your floor. ATA can also be used to activate a balcony around all or part of your floor and to change the floor to ceiling window in each bedroom into a door that accesses the balcony. Once initialized, any of you can extend or retract various wall, screen, or window options at the outer edge of your balcony. This could give you significant outdoor or greenhouse areas for growing plants, as pertains to item one. It could also give you an outer hallway to access each bedroom individually, which might be a more architecturally sound approach to item two."

By the time Murderbot finished, someone had sent Norton the relevant page of architectural details for the tower, and he projected it on both sides of the room. Everyone was talking at once about balcony options when the transporter doors opened to reveal John and Biro. The dire looks on their faced brought the room to a standstill.

"Hi, neighbors. Sorry I'm late," John sounded a bit flip, even as his hesitation suggested he had something serious to say. "I regret to inform you that Lansol, our neighbor on the first floor, suffered a heart attack this evening. After—" John shook his head, as if at a loss for words.

Carson and Ronon made their way over to the two sisters, Danisius and Pilialim, who had been the only representatives from the ground floor medical group at the meeting.

Dr. Biro took over speaking. "Heart problems are a known complication of Lansol's other conditions, but this cardiac event was unexpected. It took three healers to bring him back to life after his first crash, and the likelihood of another event if he continued to wait for his transplants was very high. After considerable argument and emergency authorizations, Healers Taran, Follaz, and Somchai performed a kidney and liver transplant from an orzo that I've had in isolation here as we researched this possibility. This is a new and previously untested xenotransplant procedure. Lansol knew the risks and had given documented consent ahead of time, but these are not the conditions any of us had hoped to first test it under. All I can say now is that Lansol survived the surgery, but I can't even estimate his odds of survival. My sympathies go out to all who know him, which is probably all of you, because he was such a character and so personable." Biro brushed a tear from the corner of her eye like someone who resented it being there. "I'm sorry you had to hear it like this."

The noise in the room took on a different tone after that. Plenty of people were consoling Biro, Carson, Danisius, Pilialim, and pretty much everyone else. Lansol had been quite outspoken at meetings and also made a habit of sitting in front of the tower and greeting everyone as they came and went. They'd all known he was gravely ill, but this news was still hard for to take.

When Madison noticed John and Rodney slipping into the transporter, they decided the meeting was over and they could leave as well. By watching their feet and avoiding all eye contact, Madison made it to the transporter without further discussion. It was only as the doors opened for them that Murderbot, R2-D2, and Lassie caught up.

There was no discussion as they crossed the main room in the penthouse or as Madison folded down onto the cushions in the corner of Murderbot's room where they'd slept the last couple nights. When they pulled up their blanket, the CatBots climbed into place on each side.

"Would anything help?" Murderbot asked. When Madison didn't answer they tried, "Water? Food? Media? A hug?"

Madison took three deep breaths knowing the best they could hope for was to calm down enough to sleep, but they didn't know how to get there. "Maybe ask me again in an hour if I'm still awake?"

"Agreed," Murderbot said. R2-D2 burbled softly and Lassie wagged her antenna ears.

"Thanks," was all Madison managed to say before burying their face in the blanket and their knees and silently counting their breaths.

#

Getting John away from the meeting room was Rodney's first win of the night.

After that, he was left with an exhausted but stressed out lover, who would probably be expected to act like an emotionally mature city leader bright and early the next morning.

"This isn't how I expected this evening to go," Rodney said. "But given your usual response to challenging days offworld, I'm guessing you'd rather try this than a hot bath." With that pronouncement, Rodney marched into the workshop attached to their bedroom and brought back the toys he'd assembled that afternoon.

"Are those butt plugs?" John asked, reaching out a finger to touch the one on his right. When it vibrated silently for just a moment, John pulled his finger back. "That's Ancient tech. With all we know about the Ancients, do you really want to trust their sex toys?"

That distrust explained another piece of John's initial aversion to their original sex toy. While John had admitted he'd been trying to think it off and assumed it was Ancient when Rodney first slipped that little vibrating ball inside him, he hadn't said he'd distrust any toy left by the Ancients. But that was actually a logical reason to worry.

"Pay attention," Rodney chided, knowing his casual gruffness would help settle John's nerves. "I made these in the lab attached to our bedroom. Yes, I used simple, programmable Ancient crystals, because you didn't like dealing with a remote for our other toy. But all the programming is mine. I could program the same crystal to secure our door and only let certain people enter under certain conditions. Instead, I set the crystal up so the first person to activate it could always turn it off." He reached out and slid the toy John had touched into his hand. "Think of it like having a safeword. If you're ever caught in an awkward situation or uncomfortable position, you have the option to stop all motion and reset to this base shape. But only the person who puts it inside you can turn it on and control the speed, intensity, and protrusions."

"Protrusions?" John asked, stroking his thumb thoughtfully across the toy in his hand. "So it can make little bumps or big bumps like the sleeve you designed for our other toy?"

"It can take on and shift between any shapes the controller imagines, constrained only by the amount of metal available and a few safety limits I programmed to avoid sharp edges or points."

John bounced the metal object lightly in his hand. "It's awfully light. Doesn't seem like it could get that big."

"I wanted the option to wear it comfortably all day." Rodney met John's eyes and watched his lover's breath catch at the thought. "But my work can be quite active, requiring me to climb up and down ladders or even run across the city. It had to be light and small enough to be unobtrusive in case of emergency."

"You fantasized about me turning it on randomly throughout your workday?"

Maybe it wasn't the most psychologically healthy strategy, but in that moment, Rodney knew he'd distracted John from whatever he'd been though since Cirillo dragged him away. That counted as a second win for the scientist.

Rodney started to shift back and forth on his feet where he stood. "Not exactly randomly, and if I really didn't like how you used the privilege, I could always shut it off. Of course, if I put mine into myself, I'd control everything. Could make meetings less boring."

"You wouldn't," John only sounded half horrified. His eyes were wide, but his pupils were growing not shrinking.

Stepping into John's space, Rodney ran a possessive hand along his ass as he whispered in his ear, "Don't worry, I'd be imagining you the whole time."

"You know I'm never wearing this thing in public," John said, but he didn't pull away.

Rodney nipped at his pointy ear. "We could discuss what exactly public means sometime, but it's fine if yours never leaves this room. Do you want to try it out?"

"You mean—We can only reshape and activate them when they're inside someone?"

Rodney nodded against John's neck, although of course he'd set up a testing box in his private lab where he could observe each possible configuration. Now was not the time to discuss development secrets. Rodney was more than willing to be John's test subject for this.

"Okay. We both put them in each other. No activating either until they're both ready."

That was braver than Rodney had expected John to be about trying out the new toys, and it made him feel something more than lust. He couldn't help but smile at the trust and eagerness implied, but John didn't need to think about that right now. Instead, Rodney sucked on John's earlobe as he started to unzip his favorite flyboy's jacket.

At the same time, John unfastened Rodney's pants and slipped both hands inside to cup the inventor's ass. The toy dangling from John's thumb and index finger rested on the cleft between his cheeks, inert for now, but with so much promise.

They made it out of their clothing faster than usual, and John had a finger inside Rodney without the scientist noticing him pulling out the lube. They were still standing next to their bed. Clothes littered the floor around them. Rodney barely had time to swap toys so he was holding the one John had first activated and vice versa. He'd need to mark the bases in some way they could both see and feel to tell them apart.

His thoughts on how best to do that were derailed as John bent him forward over the bed. Rodney barely had his hands braced to support himself when John's long clever finger found the bundle of nerves that made him shiver all over. He rubbed that spot long enough to make Rodney moan.

"Seems like you're ready." John pulled his finger out and worked the cool metallic toy inside.

It was small and smooth and well lubed. Rodney felt it less than he'd felt John's eager finger, even though he knew the toy was wider once seated. But John had it all the way in with only the elongated base resting in Rodney crack, as he demonstrated with a little swat right on top of it.

That felt good. Rodney took a moment to enjoy the burst of simulation and wish for more. But John had said he wouldn't activate the toy until Rodney placed his inside, too.

Standing up, Rodney could feel the plug shift within him. If John hadn't dug into his prostate a moment before, it would have been a minor enough sensation to ignore. But with the bit of foreplay before the toy went in as well as John jumping in to test both toys as once, Rodney was both physically and mentally aroused.

He turned to see John, standing naked with his arms crossed, looking more than pleased with himself, and knew what he had to do.

Taking the lube and the toy for John in one hand, Rodney sank to his knees and swallowed John's cock deep into his throat. He rippled his tongue and worked his throat until John filled it nicely.

As John sputtered and sank his fingers into Rodney's hair to steady himself, Rodney pulled back a little but kept sucking and swirling his tongue as he lubed up a finger to tease John's hole.

Above him, John managed to gasp out, "That's not what I meant when I said we wouldn't activate the toys until both were inside."

Rodney ignored the protest. He took his time circling John's hole with his finger and the crown of John's cock with his tongue. When his finger slid inside almost without resistance, Rodney dawdled, shifting in and out before adding another finger. He wiggled both fingers back and forth, just inside John's hole as he took several quick sucks up and down John's cock. Only then did the scientist zero in on John's prostate to tap and rub.

John let out a whine of pure desperation and his hands tightened briefly in Rodney's hair.

Finally, Rodney lubed up the toy he'd made especially for his ATA golden boy, and slid it inside.

The base had barely settled along John's crack before the toy inside Rodney turned on at what had to be its top vibration setting. Rodney's ass clenched around it as every nerve ending inside him lit up. He lapped at John's cock, suddenly needing to breathe, and then he mentally commanded the toy in John to pulse low and then high and to gradually expand.

"Bed, now." John tried to pull back, but Rodney kept him standing with a couple of deep sucks down his cock.

When he pulled off, Rodney said, "You once offered to show me a kata with a toy inside you."

"You want that now?" John was practically panting already.

Rodney nodded, face just inches from where John's cock poked out and up.

"Only because you made us both toys," John said, as he made the one inside Rodney pulse hard and fast, making him squirm. "And you have to stay kneeling like that while you watch. No jacking off either."

Rodney smiled and set John's toy to randomly press out the largest possible protrusions, shifting itself from side to side, front to back, within John.

With a half-smile, John spread his legs wide and held his arms out as Rodney felt the toy inside him expand. The muscles in John's calves and thighs tightened. Then John started punching and blocking side to side. Watching John work out had been a turn on for Rodney even before they started having sex. Now, with each move, Rodney's toy pulsed and shifted inside him. The pulses were timed to match John's movements, because of course with his super ATA, John could manage that while exercising. It was like some twisted virtual reality where a tiny John was practicing katas around Rodney's prostate. That thought, as well as the gorgeous naked body moving before him, had Rodney moaning.

When John lunged forward in his routine, the toy inside Rodney shifted forward and changed to a more rolling vibration pattern. It was just below Rodney's prostate and very intense, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. Just kneeling there, he was now panting harder than John.

Whatever was happening inside John, with the random shifting Rodney had set in motion, must have become more significant with John stretched into a lunge. For the first time, Rodney saw John squirming in a distinctly non-martial way. When John tried to repeat the forward lunge with his other leg, the muscles in his abdomen rippled.

Then John stood, pointing the toe of one foot barely in front of the other. His cock angled up toward his flexing abs as John said, "That's it. On your back on the bed."

Rodney scrambled onto the bed without a thought, star fishing out as the toy inside him faded between higher and lower vibrations. He watched as John stalked toward him and then pounced, landing with both knees just inside Rodney's spread thighs and his hand holding Rodney down at the biceps.

Then John's mouth darted to tug at Rodney's left nipple so hard it could have been a bite before it turned into waves of strong suction.

Rodney sent the toy in John to maximum size and vibration almost on reflex.

Barely a moment later, the toy inside Rodney was also huge and vibrating hard, making Rodney shout before he thought to reduce the vibration inside John, who in turn lessened the vibration inside Rodney. But when he shifted to suck on Rodney's other nipple, his mouth was just as demanding. Rodney's nipples were highly sensitive at any time. With the added stimulation inside, it was almost overwhelming.

When Rodney bucked up to try to get some pressure on his cock, John shifted forward, his knees pressing Rodney's thighs open as wide as they could go and removing any leverage for bucking up. The toy inside Rodney also shifted to rub directly against Rodney's prostate with almost unbearable intensity. Rodney was whining and thrashing before he thought to minimize the vibrations inside John in the hope that John would follow suit.

It worked at first. The vibrations inside Rodney became barely a tickle, but the tickle was right on Rodney's prostate. The toy still large and filling Rodney in a way that seemed to spark electricity up to his aching nipples.

John lapped at those nipples with the flat of his tongue. He slid his hands out along Rodney's arms until tight fingers clutched around Rodney's wrists. In that moment, Rodney realized how much more fit his lover was than him, and how effectively he had Rodney pinned to their bed.

It was a huge turn on. Rodney's cock was straining and dripping on his belly. He either needed to come or to get that tickling, teasing toy away from his prostate. He thought John's toy down to minimum size as well as minimum vibration. But John only chuckled as he pressed his tongue hard against one of Rodney's overworked nipples. Then the toy inside Rodney not only stayed large but cranked up to maximum vibrations again.

Rodney was gasping and screaming as John used his tongue and teeth to make Rodney's left nipple feel as sensitive as his cock, which still wasn't getting any attention or pressure. But the piercing sensations running from Rodney's ass to his nipples expanded to include his cock, his stretched thighs, his arms being pressed tight to the bed.

The vibrations from the toy shook Rodney to his core and all his nerves seemed to fire at once. He came untouched. Screaming.

Only after he'd shot two or three times did John's mouth descend to suck Rodney through the last of his orgasm, the vibrations inside Rodney easing off as John sucked.

Rodney lay loose and blinking, mind hazy, as John knee walked upward, letting Rodney's thighs relax into a more natural position. John rearranged Rodney's arms and shifted both pillows to prop up his shoulder and head. Then John was kneeling by Rodney's shoulders, feeding Rodney his cock.

Rodney kept his mouth barely closed, tongue only slightly caressing, as he'd learned John liked in these moment. It was easy to let John control the pace and how deep he pushed. Rodney felt floaty and blissed out, the cock in his mouth satisfying in a different way. A few synapses firing at the back of his brain recalled the blow job in the supply closet tradition that John had been forced to skip earlier that day.

Then John said, "Make the toy in me bigger, and then raise the vibrations slowly, until I tell you to stop."

Somehow, Rodney had forgotten about the new toys he'd made, which had been the central feature of this whole encounter. As he thought John's larger, Rodney became aware that his own toy, while back to its lowest setting, was still vibrating continuously, not that far away from a bundle of very sensitive nerve endings within him. He found himself breathing harder through his nose, his mouth still occupied in giving a lazy, mostly receptive blow job.

When John shuddered, with what Rodney guessed was the same tickle against his prostate that had almost overwhelmed Rodney not that long ago, Rodney remembered to gradually increase the strength of vibrations. He watched John's chest flush as he did so. John's cock was already so engorged that the heightened color, mostly hidden by John's chest hair and tan skin, was the only sign Rodney had that the vibrations were affecting him.

John kept to an easy pace, not slow, but not fast or deep, as he thrust into Rodney's relaxed mouth. He petted Rodney's hair off his damp forehead and said, "God you're good."

Then Rodney felt the toy inside him start to grow. Either the vibrations were increasing right along with it, or Rodney was still sensitized enough that it felt like the toy was reaching maximum size and vibration within seconds.

"Easy there. Just relax and let me finish up here. If you get to a point where you need pressure on your cock, you can use your hands any way you want this time. And you can do what you want with the toy inside of me. Just let me do what I want with your mouth." John reached back and twisted Rodney's swollen nipple, and Rodney couldn't hold back a whimper.

Rodney's body was a mess of sensations again, and his brain was still mush from his last orgasm. He didn't think he could go again, but he was definitely getting hard. His nerve endings almost itched, but it wasn't a bad sensation. When he placed his own hands around his balls and his cock, that helped take the edge off. The itch turned into pleasure, and all he needed was pressure, holding his own cock as he rocked to the rhythm John set in his mouth.

Then he remembered that he still controlled the toy inside of John and set it to shift protrusions and positions with each thrust John made.

John hummed in pleasure but didn't change the constant stimulation inside Rodney, so he guessed they were done with the copying stage of their play. That was fine by Rodney. He was flooded with endorphins and felt like he could go on this way forever. With the vibrations echoing through his whole nervous system, and his body thrusting in rhythm with John's, it felt as if his own cock reached all the way to his mouth.

But he kept his eyes open at least half way so he could watch John, back and neck arched, skin flushed and sweaty all over. He realized, John hadn't come yet, but he wasn't speeding up. Whether he was stretching it out for himself or for Rodney, the effect was the same. For a very long time they both rocked together in pleasure.

When John finally sped up for a few uncoordinated thrusts and then came, Rodney wasn't capable of coming again, but he felt great sucking John through his release. He eased the toy back to minimal size and vibration as John squirmed with oversensitivity. But he kept his own hands cupping his cock and balls and was glad John didn't decrease the pressure or vibration inside Rodney.

When John collapsed boneless beside Rodney, he rested one hand on top of Rodney's cock. Mostly he was covering where Rodney's hand had wrapped around, but if Rodney rocked the slightest bit, his sloppy wet crown brushed against John's lax fingers.

After a while John mumbled, "Anything I can help you with?"

Rodney answered without any filter. "I don't think I can come again, but I feel so good all over."

"Think you can stay awake in the bath?"

"I'm not in any danger of falling asleep at the moment." Rodney may not be able to come, but he too close to consider stopping.

"I might be," John said with a laugh, "but I'd rather not be this sticky and sweaty."

They made their way into the luxurious bathing unit, Rodney shifting side to side around the toy still fully expanded inside him, his hands still cradling his cock and balls. A warm fall of water like heavy rain rinsed them off. Then the bath began to fill, and they sank down into it. John managed to sit first, pulling Rodney in front of him, between his legs. As his ass settled on the solid surface of the bath, the toy inside Rodney pushed just a little deeper, pressing hard against his prostate.

"Oh, it's right there," Rodney gasped.

"Oh really, and if I press like this?" John asked as he slid a finger between Rodney's cheeks and pressed on one side of the handle and then the other, twitching it back and forth.

"Oh, yes," Rodney said, almost delirious with bliss.

"Is that better than this?" John asked as the toy inside Rodney started pressing one way and then the other, large protrusions shifting it all around. At one point, it pressed right on Rodney's sweet spot making him whine unashamedly.

John still had one hand pressing the handle in and cupping one side of Rodney's ass. Now that wrist pressed up on Rodney's balls, displacing Rodney's own hands as John other hand started to pump Rodney's cock.

The next time the toy made Rodney whine, John kept it in that configuration until Rodney twitched violently, accidentally dislodging it.

John's breath was suddenly warm against Rodney's ear. "Don't fight it Rodney. You made us very good toys, and I think you can get another orgasm out of this one tonight."

Without knowing why, Rodney shuddered at the words. Of course his inventions were great, but something about John deciding Rodney could get another orgasm kicked everything up a notch. He suddenly realized the bath was almost full around them. Johns thighs were spread around him. John's arms held Rodney's almost motionless and John was eagerly pumping Rodney toward another orgasm. The toy inside, under John's control, was only one part of the whole.

Rodney felt like he was dissolving. Like he might be crying. The pressure inside seemed to focus again on nerves that ran through his cock, like his cock was enormous, encompassing his balls, his prostate, his twitching ass. As he climaxed again, his whole body pulsed with it. His flesh pulled in and stretched out. Bright sparks flashed against the dark of his closed eyelids. His feet and toes curled in and then relaxed.

He felt John pull the once again small and still toy out. Rodney was so loose and relaxed he barely noticed. Then John wriggled and said something about pulling his own out as well. Rodney thought it off, but it seemed John already had.

The warm water and John's muscular body held Rodney, warm and perfect. He wanted to stay there forever.

Eventually John said, "Come on, before we both fall asleep." And they stumbled off to bed.

#

The next morning, Carson lingered in bed. The evening before hadn't turned out the way anyone expected, but Ronon had kept to his plan to touch Carson as thoroughly and continuously as possible. It hadn't taken long for Carson to fall asleep under his lover's caresses. When he awoke to Ronon stroking his side, it was easy to imagine the petting had continued through the entire night. "Still want this to go on forever," Carson mumbled into his pillow.

"Me, too." Ronon stroked up Carson's neck and into his hair, where his fingertips cleared away a night's worth of neck pain and slight headache as they worked up and down, forward and back.

"How do you know to do that?"

Ronon chuckled. "I did what I wanted to. When you relaxed under my touch, I wanted to do it more."

Carson rolled to face Ronon, and moving did remind Carson of the many ways his body hurt, even as Ronon managed to cradle his head and massage his scalp throughout. Then Carson pressed his face in beside Ronon's neck and rested a hand on Ronon's chest. There his fingers made small circles in his lover's chest hair, almost like Ronon was making on Carson's scalp. "Can we stay in bed all day?"

"I will if you want me to, but you're scheduled to see your therapist today. I thought with what you finally decided yesterday about the orvo transplants and then the news about Lansol, you probably wouldn't want to skip that."

As Ronon spoke, Carson realized he'd buried some of his guilt and fear the night before, wanting to be strong for others. Now he was using the comfort Ronon offered to dull both his physical and emotional pain. "It might send the wrong message and worry my therapist if I skipped today."

Ronon huffed, as if recognizing the rationalization but not calling Carson's bluff. "Trust me. I want to keep doing this for days, or as long as it takes for one of us to stop enjoying it, but we can take all the breaks we need."

"What if they send you back to Lo Seco?" Carson complained in a mock whine.

"Then that's another break, but I don't think they'll be putting us in quarantine again. Do you?"

Carson was fairly certain no Lanteans would be sent to Lo Seco until they had an immunization, a cure, or a solid solution of some sort. It felt selfish to want the solution to wait a few days, but it was what he wanted for himself and Ronon. "Anything in particular you'd like for breakfast?"

#

_Madison slammed shut the courtyard windows of their first-floor dorm room._

_"What the—We need the breeze!" Their roommate, Kimiko protested._

_"Did you tell Josh I liked Samuel Delaney?" Madison hissed in a panicked whisper._

_Kimiko twirled her pen in the air. "What? Does he even know Delaney's some super old science fiction guy?"_

_"Yes!" Madison scurried back onto their bed, to the corner best hidden from the windows. "He asked me about my favorite Delaney books and then—without me ever answering—went on and on about all the sex parts in Delaney's other works."_

_"Just go out with Josh already." Kimiko said his name way too loud, and Madison made shushing motions, that became far too close to hand flapping, while trying to quiet her down. "Make it bad, end it publicly, and he'll give up."_

_Madison grabbed their bedcovers to still their hands but couldn't help tapping their feet frantically. What Kimiko was suggesting was impossible to even imagine. Madison would never play those sort of games, even if they could. "I don't think that would stop him. He sits outside our windows all the time. He knew about Delaney from hearing us talk. You're the only person I've told about old books I like."_

_"Big F-ing deal." Kimiko shouted throwing down her pen and scratch paper as she stood. "Go hide in the library or CS lab if you can't deal with people. I'm opening the windows."_

Madison woke with a gasp, curled tight in a ball on the floor. Something made a whirring noise beside her, and Madison realized it was R2-D2, running a fan loudly. The bot seemed to consider the sound soothing, or maybe just non-threatening. It worked for Madison, who at worst thought a laptop might be overheating and always opened their eyes to check.

They reached out to pat R2-D2 and then Lassie before trying to untangle from two blankets and a nest of pillows. The pillows had all migrated to the side, leaving Madison in a sort of trough on the floor. At least the floor was on its softest setting.

As their eyes focused better, Madison saw the time on the screen where Murderbot was working. It was a bit early to be awake, but too late to try going back to sleep, especially after a dream like that. While it seemed odd to dream about arguing with Tomiko rather than what eventually led to the restraining order against Josh, Madison didn't want to question small mercies. They'd written a very difficult story recently, based partly on experiences with Josh combined with stuff they were trying to sort out on Atlantis. Maybe Kimiko appeared in the dream because she hadn't made it into the story.

"Do you want water or food now?" Murderbot asked while typing, probably transcribing more bot training records even while Madison slept.

"I got it." Madison used the bathroom, washed up, and came back with a glass of water and their tablet. Normally, they couldn't write in a room with anyone else around. But Madison and the CatBots were very unobtrusive company, especially when they could see Madison was working. Except right now Madison couldn't work. Instead they dived into writing a new fanfic based on Delaney's _Empire Star_ and didn't stop for a moment until they typed "The End."

As soon as they set the tablet aside, Murderbot rotated their torso to fully face Madison and asked, "Do you feel better?"

Madison realized another reason they might have dreamed about Tomiko, their first-year roommate at Caltech. But Murderbot was nothing like Tomiko, other than Madison sleeping in the same room sometimes. "A little. I think I'm going to forage for breakfast now."

"I doubt you'll have to work very hard." Murderbot, R2-D2, and Lassie followed Madison out to a gently sunny dining area. Ronon had ended up commissioning a two-part wooden dining table from an Athosian he knew, while they'd all chosen chairs for their own comfort and ergonomics. Madison had a wooden dining chair without a back cushion, because they didn't like that part. Murderbot preferred to make their own triangular base and sit at the corner beside Madison when they joined them for meals. The CatBots mostly chose to watch from their shelf as BioKin went about the messy business of eating.

Today the table was set with matching white dishes, white cloth napkins, and a white vase with flowers. The white didn't look too stark against the deep wood tones, and the flowers were a cascade of cheerful oranges and yellows. Hanso was busily rolling around the kitchen and pushed a tray into the oven with a clang.

"Hello, Hanso," Madison said as they studied the flour dusted kitchen. "Are you cooking something?"

"Good morning, Madison, Murderbot, R2-D2, and Lassie. Would you like tea, Madison?"

For the first time in a long while, it felt odd to be the only BioKin in the room. Then Madison noticed the water already steaming on the stove and guessed the correct answer was, "Yes, please. Mint tea would be very nice."

"I left a present for you in the living room," Hanso said, "if you want to see what it is while I set up tea."

Now Madison was even more confused. Their birthday and graduation had been a while ago. On Earth it was July 8th, which wasn't any important holiday or anniversary that Madison could remember. If it were some special day on Atlantis or elsewhere in Pegasus, that wouldn't mean much to Madison.

Then they saw the big blue beanbag chair with "Madison" embroidered on one side and practically dived into it. "This is the best! I love beanbags!" After rolling around to feel the beans shift under them and the smooth fabric give against their skin, Madison shifted to some semblance of sitting. "Thank you, Hanso! But why? It's not any gift giving day I know about."

Hanso had been setting a bowl of berries and a separate bowl of chopped fruit on the table. Once they finished they rolled over in front of Madison. "I do not know about gift giving days. Would you like to tell me more?"

So Madison explained about birthdays, anniversary, all the gift giving holidays they knew, and even Hobbit birthdays and gifting to others. Then Hanso said, "That is all very interesting and sounds complex. Your tea is ready. Would you like it at the table or here?"

Not wanting to risk spilling on their new beanbag, Madison went to their usual seat at the table to snack on berries and stir sugar into their tea. "Thank you, Hanso. This is all amazing."

"There will be scones in five minutes."

#

"Scones?" Rodney echoed, having stumbled out of his room to see Madison leaving behind a beanbag chair that he was pretty sure hadn't been in their living area the night before. Now Madison was stirring tea at a table that looked somehow fancier than usual, and Hanso was in the kitchen promising scones.

"Yes," Hanso answered, blinking three lights, "There will be scones in four minutes. Good morning, Rodney and John. Would you like tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, definitely," Rodney answered.

"Morning, Hanso," John said as he ran his hands through his perpetually messy hair. "I'd like coffee, too. Thanks."

Rodney sat at his usual seat, the one with the pillows he liked best positioned just the way he wanted, and John slouched in the chair beside him saying, "Morning, Madison, Murderbot." Then he looked up at the bot shelf behind the table and said, "Morning, CatBots." They waved antennae, with ears in Lassie's case, at John, but Rodney just shook his head at all the greeting. The all lived in the same house, for goodness sake. They couldn't be expected to go through rollcall and greetings every morning.

But when Hanso put a steaming cup of delicious smelling coffee in front of him, Rodney did manage to say "thanks" as did John. Then there were small packages wrapped in plain paper and ribbon place in front of each of them and Murderbot. Rodney asked, "What are these?"

"They are gifts from me to you," Hanso said. "They are not for any special gift giving day. My training had not taught me about those before this morning."

Rodney opened his with delight, finding four bars of Scharffen Berger. "Chocolate! You are excellent at choosing gifts, Hanso. Very well done." Then he wrapped it up again loosely in the paper and ribbon, because Rodney had learned long ago that meant he didn't have to share whatever treats he was given.

Meanwhile, John had been stalling and only now opened his slightly larger package. He held up a fuzzy black muscle shirt. It looked like something Ronon might wear, only smaller. "Thanks, Hanso. That's very considerate of you."

It was obvious to Rodney that John wasn't thrilled with his gift, but Rodney immediately saw the possibilities. He reached out to confirm the fabric was as soft as it looked, then he snatched it out of John's hands and draped it over John's chest, in front of the black tee shirt he was wearing. Stroking one hand down, only a little suggestively, Rodney said, "I think you'll like wearing this very much.

Madison groaned, but didn't comment.

At the far corner of the table, Murderbot was inspecting a stack of metal cases. "Hanso," Rodney said, "Those look a lot like the extra shielding I made to protect your primary and secondary memory and processing units before you went offworld. Did you take them out?"

Hanso blinked two lights and said, "No, the upgrade you gave me is such a good gift, I couldn't think of anything better to give Murderbot and H511. I will share the plans with the other BotKin as well." Then they turned to face the CatBot shelf, "I have not yet come up with a good shielding design for CatBots or SamplerBots. Your mass constraints are too tight. I do not have gifts for you now, but maybe you would like to watch media together later?"

Rodney had a sudden inspiration for CatBot cosplay, but it would have to wait until later as well. The CatBots burbled at Hanso, and then the oven beeped just as Ronon and Carson walked out.

#

"Good morning everyone," Carson said. "What's all this?"

"Scones," Rodney answered enthusiastically as Hanso pulled a pan of lightly browned triangles from the oven.

While Hanso transferred the scones from pan to tray they said, "Good morning, Carson and Ronon. Would you like your usual tea this morning?"

With a glance to check with his bemused lover, Carson answered for both of them, "That would be lovely." To the table at large he asked, "Is there some occasion I should know about?"

Madison laughed, which was good to hear, if less than informative.

As he and Ronon took their seats, Hanso place the tray of scones on the table and a paper wrapped bundle tied with bright blue ribbon directly between Carson and Ronon. "This is a gift from me to both of you. The others already opened theirs." That explained the wrappings and small objects sharing the dining table with their food and dishes.

Rather than ask more questions, Carson lifted the gift and nudged Ronon to untie the bow. If Ronon made a point of brushing Carson's fingers as he did so, that was between the two of them. Once the outer paper was removed, there turned out to be many small blocks of different colors and scents wrapped in a different, slightly slippery paper.

"I see you found Esparanata's booth at the morning market," Ronon said to Hanso. "She's known for making the gentlest soaps and luxury bath items. Thank you."

"Hanso, that's very thoughtful," Carson said. "But we didn't get you anything."

"You gave me my name and my room," Hanso said as he brought tea for Carson and Ronon. "This is the first time I've given gifts of my own. Dr. Biro told me giving gifts was sometimes better than receiving them. I don't know how to compare, but I enjoyed many interesting training interaction while acquiring gifts."

While everyone around was fixing up scones with cream, jam, and fruit, Carson focused on Hanso who had settled beside him at the table. "Thank you very much, and I'm glad you enjoyed your experiences. But what brought on this gift giving or the conversation with Biro?"

"Biro wanted to pay me for my work on the new anti-rejection treatment," Hanso explained. "I did not understand the point of pay, stipends, or grants. Biro patiently explained those concepts by building on what I knew about gifts. When I pointed out I had nothing I wanted to spend the trade credits on, she suggested I might like spending some on gifts."

"Did you give her something to?" Carson asked, as Ronon slid a scone and berries onto his plate.

"I brought her flowers like these," Hanso motioned to the orange and yellow flowers. "Hers are the ones still growing in a pot, because she misses growing things in her lab and office. Other BioKin working in rooms without windows must experience this too, because there are many lamps made to imitate sunlight. I requisitioned one that was not in use."

"Hey, Hanso," Madison asked, "you didn't happen upon any small rooms or closets where people were growing a lot of just one type of plant using those lights, did you?"

"I did. There was one plant in particular that I found being grown that way in many closets as I searched for requisitioned and unused lamps." Hanso turned their main camera on Madison, "Is this something you can teach me more about?"

Madison laughed and then half choked on their scone.

John said, "This may be something I shouldn't know too much about as military commander."

"Probably not your guys growing the stuff." Rodney waved it off, then he turned to Hanso and said, "Let me tell you about a tradition at the college I attended called the 'pot closet.'"

The pot closet had been mostly a matter of legend by the time Madison reached Caltech. Marijuana was legal in California, although Madison was underage and mostly avoided drugs, finding their mind complicated enough to deal with as it was. But hearing their uncle reminisce about his college days and labeling the pot closet among other things in Elvish caused a sudden realization.

"You wrote the critique in Elvish beside the poem about the Hybalt Dog and the Codrogen Cat!"

"How would you know that?" Rodney asked, before shoving his mouth full of scone once again.

"I lived two doors down from it my second year. Someone's stack included decoding the Elvish, which turned out to be a physics critique. Of a poem from The Spacechild's Mother Goose!" Madison's hands were tapping on their seat as they said, "How did I not realize that was yours?"

"They kept that? Yet another way I didn't know I'd be remembered." Rodney preened proudly.

"Did you leave any other art?" Madison asked.

Rodney's face scrunched up. "I wrote a lot of very insightful comments in Elvish."

Madison looked around the room and then back to her uncle. "We should think of an art project for our new tower. I drew fractals under an archway my last year as an undergraduate, but I wouldn't want to try that again. It's worse than pointillism."

"Nope, I'm not an artist." Rodney jumped up from his seat saying, "I need to figure out the lizard people's water works and how to best prevent future outbreaks on Lo Seco."

John stood more slowly, "I'm sure I have a day full of meetings about Lo Seco and everything else to look forward to. Hope the rest of you have better plans." Then he scooped up his new shirt from the table and said, "Thanks again, Hanso, for the gifts and for breakfast."

Hanso flashed three lights and said, "You're welcome."

"What did he mean about lizard people?" Madison asked.

"There's a file share in the science library," Carson offered while lifting his tea. "The new outbreak on Lo Seco traces back to pipes built with a layer to poison rodents, and the people who built them are historically described as lizard people."

"For real? Is that why the poison in their pipes didn't worry them?"

"Perhaps, or their populations could have been immune or inoculated themselves." Carson set down his teacup. "It's not just a poison but a virus. They meant for it to spread through their target population. Given how ill our would-be archeologists are, it might have been lethal to smaller mammals."

"Are people dying of this on Lo Seco?" Madison felt guilty for not thinking of that before. She'd mostly seen her uncle's recent quarantine as an inconvenience to her chosen family.

With a sigh, Carson said, "We don't know. They won't let us in so long as they think we're responsible."

"Or they all get too sick to guard the Gate," Ronon added.

After the surprisingly nice breakfast they'd all shared, Madison was sorry to see it end on such a sad note.

#

"I am already regretting my genius contribution to forcefield technology," Rodney muttered from the copilot seat in the Jumper. His team and Taran had once again donned biohazard suits, fully sealed and double checked, to fly through the Gate to Lo Seco, this time without cloaking or trying to distract anyone from their Jumper.

It turned out, there was no one waiting at the Gate.

"Think we're forgiven, and they're hoping we'll come back?" John asked aloud.

"Higher probability than that they're all dead or all recovered," Rodney had been studying sensor readings as he spoke and now added, "Looks like most human sized heat signatures are inside the medical center or other buildings. We can land by that tree where they met with us before."

They'd planned their landing spot to be non-threatening and within easy access from the medical center. Taran and John picked up boxes filled with easily recognizable supplies that Atlantis had donated in the past. Disposable gloves and bleach wipes were prominent, at Somchai's suggestion. A picture of the six "archeologists" they'd rescued was taped to the front of Taran's box, at her insistence. Rodney held only a tablet with pictures and videos. As the three of them advanced in a tight triangle with Taran in the lead, Ronon and Teyla flanked them and were prepared to fend off an attack if necessary.

When no one came to meet them before they were within easy speaking distance of the medical center's front door, Taran called out, "I am Healer Taran. I come to help any patients or other healers who will let me. I bring news of other people with the same illness who may have contaminated your water supply upstream."

As they waited for any response, Rodney noted one of the carved logs Madison had rolled through the Gate was propped to one side of the front door. While the logs had been partly a diversion, it was good to see the warning about contaminated water and waste had reached the medical center somehow.

There were muffled sounds of movement from inside, but when no one opened the door, Taran shouted even louder. "I am Healer Taran. I come to help. We bring supplies and news of other patients we have treated for the same illness. Your water supply was contaminated upstream and soiled materials can also spread this virus. If no one here will speak with me, I will make my offer in town."

After several more minutes of nothing, Rodney was tired from just holding a tablet and standing still. He was glad not to be carrying a large box like Taran or John.

Finally Taran said, "We will leave two boxes of supplies here while we go into town. There are tablets that can purify your water if you drop one in a jug and wait the length of evening prayers to drink. If you won't trust that, your deepest well at the crossroads should still have safe water."

Taran and John set down their boxes and backed away to the Jumper. While Rodney was inventing ways to contain the problem, others had been negotiating a long and complex plan to balance saving lives, respecting local wishes, and protecting Lantean personnel.

Step one had just failed.

Step two involved landing the Jumper in front of a tavern that was also the home of someone Taran considered the de facto mayor for the area. Once again, John and Taran carried obviously helpful supplies as their group approached a closed door with Taran in the lead.

"Elder Lotras, this is Healer Taran. I come to offer help and share information about other patients sick with the same illness who may have contaminated your water supply upstream. Please, may we speak of ways to help all your people?"

After four more attempts and leaving various boxes of supplies around town, they landed the Jumper at a farmhouse situated close enough to hear the contaminated creek flowing by. This time Taran called out to the closed door, "Greetings to Norun, Potanal, Kovat, and to all of your children and family. This is Healer Taran. I know many here are unwell. I have helped patients with the same illness who may have contaminated your water upstream. Please let me help here, or at least speak to me of your concerns and what you would have me do."

Rodney had already given up and was mentally critiquing the construction of the wood frame house and the stone wall abutting it, when the front door creaked open and a flushed round face peaked out. "Is that you really you, Healer Taran?"

"Kovat, it is me. I delivered the third child of your body last fall, a hearty girl with a full head of hair and a loud healthy cry. You named her Helip in my presence."

"Please, Helip is sick too. I am the only one still walking, and I haven't made it out to the animals since yesterday. They said you and these people caused it, but then warning symbols claimed it was the water. I've been boiling our water since yesterday. I've propped the others up to help them breathe easier. What else can I do?"

"I swear to you as a healer and one who brings life into this world, neither I nor anyone with me helped cause this outbreak. May my friends and I come inside to help you?"

The woman, Kovat, hesitated but soon said, "Yes. What else can I do?"

"I will stay outside and check the animals, if you do not mind," Teyla said.

"Me too," Ronon added.

Rodney guessed Ronon at least would be keeping watch, but Teyla seemed to know how to do everything else in Pegasus. She probably could handle whatever animals the place had.

Kovat nodded faster and said, "Yes, that is good."

Finding a local who would speak with them boosted the team forward to at least step ten in the convoluted plan that Rodney had no part in making. He'd been told to record any interactions to protect against future misunderstandings. He also knew the leadership on Atlantis demanded informed consent from the locals before Rodney would be allowed to deploy his part of the plan, the part that would actually stop the spread of contaminated water, as if anyone rational would say no to that.

It wasn't how they'd done things in the early years of the expedition, and Rodney thought it was a bit ridiculous in this case. But it had evidently taken all morning for Cirillo and others to agree that any one resident giving clear informed consent would be enough to justify at least a temporary retaining wall beside (but not technically within) these people's sacred site. John and the others were happy with that compromise and expected Rodney to play along.

That's what brought Rodney to Kovat's kitchen, where John smiled as he set down a box of medical and sanitation supplies. Taran explained about viruses and how boiling water long enough would probably kill this one but they also had tablets that could be dropped into any container of water. Rodney held the electronic tablet to his chest, in a position he favored anyway, and recorded the whole thing, because explaining about viruses and options was part of informing a local who might then reasonably give consent.

The tutorial on bleach wipes was equally educational and every bit as riveting.

Then Kovat led them to two bedrooms at the back of the house. From the one on the right, a skinny teenager propped up on pillows wheezed and waved at them, with a smaller child curled up asleep on the same bed.

The room on the left contained a baby and two middle aged men, all propped up together. All drooling and breathing loudly. There was a ceramic bowl to one side that had clearly been used as a toilet, and even with the biohazard suit filtering his air, Rodney swore he could smell it.

John stood behind Taran like he was eager to help (or to defend her or Rodney if the barely conscious men suddenly attacked).

Kovat scooped the baby up and held it out for Taran to examine first.

From the red first responder bag she carried, Taran produced a stethoscope with attachments that plugged directly into the biohazard suit so she could listen and alcohol wipes to clean her tools between each examination. The baby seemed to be doing alright for a baby; it only cried a little. But neither of the adult men was coherent. After Taran explained about the basic anatomy of lungs and her options to help the men breathe easier and reduce their fevers, Kovat was eager for Taran to give them steroid shots to reduce sinus and respiratory swelling. Taran also provided an inhaler and some ibuprofen and gave Kovat careful instructions for later use.

Then Taran, John, and Rodney all tromped over to check on the kids, with Kovat still carrying the baby. Taran explained everything she did to the teen, who seemed awake enough to be bored and appreciate anything new happening. Taran praised his curiosity and how he cared for his little brother who only woke up once during the examination.

Back in the kitchen, Taran explained what doses of ibuprofen would be safe if the kids' fevers rose and that the teen could use the inhaler if he really couldn't breathe. But mostly Taran thought the kids would be fine and the mild fevers they had now were signs of how their bodies were fighting off the virus.

Finally, Taran settled Kovat with her baby in a rocking chair. This time Taran asked a lot of questions in between listening with the stethoscope. Some were to make sure Kovat could reasonably care for her sick family and was still producing enough milk for the baby. Teyla brought in eggs during this portion and reported that none of the animals seemed ill. She asked if she should put water purification tablets in the animals' water troths, and Taran and Kovat agreed that would be best.

Then Taran explained to Kovat about the six very sick patients she'd found upstream who had been digging where the water contamination started. She hedged a bit and didn't specify that had happened in secret the previous day. "I think they may have been digging in a sacred space and broken open an old pipe. That pipe is still spilling poison into your water supply, but if you want, my friends say they could make a temporary wall at the edge of the sacred space. It should keep more contamination from spilling into your stream, but it could still take a while for your water to be safe. You'd have to keep using the tablets or boiling water and keep everything very clean to keep people from making each other sick. Do you understand what I'm suggesting?"

"You think you could fix the broken pipe so we have good water again?" Kovat said.

"I don't know. That would be dangerous for us too, and would take longer. For now, we brought materials to put in a wall that would block the contamination. It won't last forever, but long enough for people to get better if they take care of each other."

"What if it leaks in again?" Kovat asked.

Taran looked to Rodney as if he had any answers. Rodney improvised, "Maybe we could make a test you could do at home? The best solution would be to permanently remove the contaminated pipes."

"That's my friend who came up with the plans for a wall to protect you," Taran said. "It's the best we can do for now, that and offer medical assistance like we did for your family. We left supplies for others, but I'm glad you let me in so I could do my work as a healer. Now I need to know if you want my friends to put in a wall to protect your stream. We have some drawings you can look at." Taran motioned Rodney forward and he brought up the simplest images, still pictures of his preliminary sketches.

"There is light behind the drawing," Kovat petted the side of the tablet.

Rodney's sigh was mostly smothered by his suit.

Taran pointed out details. "You can see the wall goes well below the ground level here, down to the bedrock to keep contaminated soil in."

"Why does it curve away from the stream so far?" Kovat asked.

Rodney started to answer and then shut his mouth as Taran said, "That makes it harder for anything to get around the wall and into the water."

It was a gross oversimplification of Rodney's design parameters, and he hoped at least John, who had somehow watched silently through this whole production, appreciated how much restraint Rodney was showing by not butting in with a better explanation.

"I've never seen such a wall," Kovat said, and she smiled up at Rodney for a moment before looking down at her baby and then back to Taran. "You are a good healer, Taran, but I don't understand why your friends bring us supplies and offer to build a wall to protect our water."

"I joined them to start a new medical center on their planet." Taran's face was only inches from Kovat's, despite the biohazard suit separating them. "They are part of the Network of Healers now, and they believe as I do that we will all benefit from sharing what we can do to help others."

Kovat looked down at her baby again and then said, "If you and your friends can build this wall today, then please do. I'm sure everyone will be grateful when the water is safe and those who can recover. Is that what you needed to hear?"

"It is," Taran said, "more than you can know."

#

As soon as Carson finished meeting with his therapist, he went to the infirmary to sit with Lansol. The young man hadn't fully regained consciousness since his surgery. Until he did, it would be hard to assess his chances of survival or of further complications. But thanks to Ancient tech and the hard work of three doctors, his color was good, his breathing even, and he looked like he was only sleeping—so long as one ignored the IV lines and monitors.

Sitting beside Lansol, all Carson could think was "it could have been me" and "maybe it should have been me." Despite Lansol's bravado about being honored to die if his death helped the healers learned how to make xenotransplants safe for others, Carson wished he'd decided sooner and insisted on going first.

Lansol had been eager to go out and help others. Carson had done that for decades and only realized now that he'd stopped wanting it. Whatever had made him the eager healer and researcher he once was, it was all dried up.

He wanted to help. To do his part. To solve problems. But he didn't feel any of that the way he remembered from his youth or saw in Lansol recently.

Carson wanted to curl up with Ronon and enjoy whatever they could have. He was more interested in learning Ronon's history than learning about the new virus on Lo Seco.

He wanted to make frivolous treats like frosting flowers and ginger cookies more than he wanted to oversee clinical trials or patent new medications.

The only exception to the trend seemed to be in the role of "elder" as Ronon put it. While Carson wasn't sure if or how he could help stabilize a community or support the members of his forever family, the urge to try pulled at him almost the way medicine once had. But while he was once confident in his medical credentials, he didn't feel especially capable in his new role.

He shook his head and said aloud, "We need you, Lansol. I didn't understand what it meant to be needed for myself. Maybe you don't either, but talking to you helped me figure it out. I needed that then. I don't know what tomorrow will hold, but I know our community—the tower as well as the Network of Healers—will be better with you in it."

He sat for another hour, watching over Lansol and hoping they'd have a chance to talk again.

#

It took hours to build the retaining wall.

After the convoluted maneuverings of the morning, Rodney's plan worked admirably. He'd been researching forcefields since their first storm on Atlantis, but it was only that morning that he'd realized this new application. Rather than digging in the mud with heavy equipment they didn't have, Rodney generated two parallel forcefields. Their portable power sources only let him generate surfaces about twenty yards wide and up to twenty yard high. But he could send them underground, down to solid bedrock. By generating two parallel fields, he could clear a space in between.

Then he made John and Ronon feed in reinforcing mesh (because they were tallest, or so he told them). They bumbled around in their biohazard suits looking ridiculous, while Rodney supervised Teyla and Taran in mixing and pouring an advanced foam version of concrete. Then Rodney sampled and scanned each section until it was cured and stable enough to remove the forcefields. They had to repeat the process five times to surround the contaminated region effectively, and it truly was a temporary solution.

One earthquake or landslide could open a fatal gap. Or a pipe could crack or be torn up elsewhere in the system that they hadn't even mapped yet. But taking all the pipes out would be a massive undertaking and not easily managed in biohazard suits. They'd need workers who were already immune or possibly bots, although Rodney hesitated to even ask that of the BotKin. But those negotiations would have to wait until enough people on Lo Seco had recovered to discuss long term options.

For now, Rodney wanted to go home. He powered down his last forcefield and packed up the generating components. As they finally trudged into the Jumper, muddy and sore, Rodney said, "I've done my part. I hope to never set foot on this planet again."

John looked at his suit, which was at least twice as muddy as Rodney's and said, "At least your feet stayed mostly on top of the ground."

Taran joined them sounding not at all put out as she asked, "On the way back, could we check if any of the other supplies we left have been taken inside? Maybe someone will have left a message or a mark on the door if they want our help now?"

She said it like that would be a good thing.

Rodney groaned and protested, but no one listened, not even John.

As it turned out, while many of the supply boxes had been taken inside or emptied with only the containers left behind, no one flagged them down. Even Taran admitted that there were no signs she could interpret as a request for help or a willingness to meet and talk. They flew through to the alpha site where two military medics in yellow suits of their own waited to help them through the first round of decontamination.

#

By the end of the day, Madison wanted nothing more than their beanbag and simple entertainment. They picked up Murderbot from the basement room in the main tower, and together they made their way outside onto the southwest pier.

There they found Lauren Ng and three others, panting amidst a mound of suitcases and boxes, while Pluto poked around the sides.

"Hi, Lauren. Would you like some help?" Madison offered. Neither of them had made a good first impression on the other, but that had been a month ago. This seemed like a good opportunity to try again, since it looked like Lauren was moving into the tower today.

"Hi Murderbot, Madison. I'm so glad you all finally agreed to let us move into the tower." Her hair was piled into a huge messy bun today, and when she tilted her head it looked like she might fall over. Then she gestured to each of the friends with her, "This is Finn, Damien, and Piper. They're moving in now, too. The others got time off to move, but we're all in biology and had a mandatory training today."

"Sorry," Madison said. When no one else spoke they added, "Did it have to do with Lo Seco?"

"No." Lauren shook her head in disbelief. "We're biologists, not virologists."

From her uncle and his generation, Madison had thought people were more flexible about their fields of study here, and it seemed like a virus that could affect anything from rats to humans but not the "lizard people" impacted a lot of biological organisms. But Madison didn't know much about biology and definitely knew better than to argue or press the point.

Murderbot said, "Are you taking all this to the eighth floor of our tower? Is there something you'd like me to carry?"

"Oh yes, you're super strong, right?" Lauren bounced past the one she'd called "Finn," who had floppy bangs and a narrow build, to point at a large cardboard box. "That one is heavy and awkward." Pluto followed behind Lauren, carefully staying out from underfoot.

Without comment, Murderbot lifted the box. "I'll be fine with this."

"Can we stack more on top?" Lauren asked.

"I can help, too," Madison said.

"Yeah, sure. You can carry those bags." Madison took the bags as the others around them picked up whatever they could. In the end, Lauren stacked a retro record player and two speakers on top of the box Murderbot carried. Murderbot didn't seem to mind, but Lauren's presumption grated on Madison.

When Damien, a big guy who was carrying the second most after Murderbot, almost dropped a sliding shoe box, Madison caught it and said, "I can take that. These bags aren't too heavy." Then they noticed Damien's tee shirt had a Tardis near the top and something like tentacles near the bottom. The rest was hidden by the stack he was carrying. "Nice shirt."

"Thanks," Damien said. His voice was low but soft, and Madison realized it was the first time he'd spoken.

Murderbot asked from Madison's other side, "Are you a Whovian?"

"Yeah, but I started with Capaldi and then Whittaker. I haven't caught up on all the rest, just the first few with Eccleston." He shrugged, despite all the stuff he was carrying, and sounded almost apologetic.

"You're lucky," Madison said. "You have years of great stuff to catch up on while we all wait for the next season."

"Madison hates spoilers, and I respect that," Murderbot said. "So you don't have to worry about us telling you anything you don't want to know."

Damien snorted. "I knew half a dozen major spoilers before I started watching, but thanks for offering."

By then they'd reached the still unnamed, community led tower. Not seeing Lansol out in front, greeting people from his lawn chair, made the backs of Madison's eyes sting for a moment. But they tried to remember that no news was good news in this case, because someone would surely come to break it to them gently if he died.

The transporter was half full with Murderbot, Madison, Damien, and all the stuff they were carrying. Then Lauren pushed her way in, followed by Pluto, and told the other two, "You can take the next trip."

As soon as they stepped onto the eighth floor, Lauren said, "Damien, take those to the first room on the left."

Other roommates were stepping out of the far rooms to meet them, but Lauren rounded on Madison, Pluto barely avoiding an accidental kick from her tidy white sneaker. "Don't think you can flirt with my boyfriend."

"I wasn't," Madison answered reflexively.

Even though it seemed clear to Madison that Lauren wasn't talking to them, Murderbot leaned closer to say. "I wasn't either. We were just talking about Dr. Who."

"Just leave that stuff here and go," Lauren said.

Madison couldn't tell if the people from the farther suites who'd come out to meet them approved of Lauren's behavior or not, but Madison set down their pile of stuff and signaled for the transporter. It arrived almost instantly, Finn and Piper piling out with their arms full as Madison and Murderbot silently left.

Murderbot was just saying, "That was awkward," as the doors opened on their penthouse floor.

#

The way the transporter opened onto the main room in the penthouse meant conversations often spilled over, so Carson heard Murderbot comment, "That was awkward," just before Madison rushed across the common room to plunge face first into their beanbag.

He'd been heating chili in the kitchen and when Murderbot looked to him and raised their hands beseechingly, Carson said, "Rough day?"

"Lauren on the eighth floor accused Madison of flirting with Damien, who is apparently Lauren's boyfriend." Murderbot held up one finger and then half raised another as if enumerating a list. "My behaviors in the conversations were similar to Madison's, but I was not directly accused of flirting." That warranted the second finger. "When Madison and I discussed the topic of flirting previously, Madison lacked a robust definition or sorting algorithm to identify flirting." A third finger rose, and then after a pause, Murderbot quickly added a fourth while saying, "I believe I caused Madison distress the last time we tried to talk about this."

"Well, I may not know anything that's relevant for either of you or the people you're talking about. But Ronon tells me I'm an elder and this is our forever family, so I'd like to do whatever I can to help." He turned to face Madison, even though they were face down in their beanbag and probably wouldn't notice. "Madison, could I at least offer you vegetarian chili and cornbread?"

"Is there honey for the cornbread?" Madison asked without raising their face from the beanbag, but Carson could piece the words together.

"Of course, we're used to dealing with your uncle, and you seem to share his sweet tooth."

Making a great show out of the effort required to walk to the table, Madison said, "My tastes are my own. If both Rodney and I inherited something from a common ancestor, that person was dead before I was born. But thank you for making dinner."

"Would you like tea with honey or sugar as well?" Carson offered.

"I'll grab myself water. Anything else I can bring to the table?"

"Why don't you grab the cornbread," Carson suggested. "Murderbot, will you join us as well?"

They all settled into their usual places, although the table felt empty without the others. R2-D2 had been watching from the CatBot shelf as Carson was cooking and made a cheerful burble as the others sat down.

"Is there anything you'd like to say, Madison," Carson asked as they filled their plates, "or should we let you eat in peace?"

For a long while, Madison was silent. They finished a huge slice of cornbread, liberally garnished with butter and honey. The chili seemed to serve as a palate cleanser they tasted after every couple bites of cornbread. Carson ate his smaller serving in about the opposite ratios, but he was still happy for the company.

Finally Madison said, "Most of my friendships start out with people being curious about me, because in almost any context I'm weird somehow. One on one, I never know how long someone's interest in me will last. But in groups, there's always someone who picks on me or tries to correct me in front of other people. Like Lauren accusing me of flirting or Jake scolding me for confronting Sophia. Murderbot seems to think I wasn't to blame either of those times, which makes my friendship with Murderbot very different. It seems nice, but maybe not, because maybe I'm providing bad training? I don't feel very well qualified for my job or as a friend and I feel like every time I socialize in a group I do something wrong."

When Madison fell silent, Carson nodded and said. "I don't know if you consider me a friend, but I promise I do not see you as a curiosity and I've already accepted you as forever family, if you'll have me."

"How is that different from chosen family?" Madison asked.

"I wasn't raised with either term, but the way I understand it, forever family are those you hope will survive along with you. In a galaxy plagued by the Wraith for generations, you can imagine how the ideal of a stable family unit, even if people joined or left it over time, could be seen as stabilizing a larger community. I think that still applies to our lives here, where there is so much uncertainty and so little history."

"If I went back to Earth, would I still be part of this forever family?" Madison asked.

"You could choose to be by maintaining communications. Would you want that?"

Madison nodded, eyes big and glossy with tears.

"Then I promise, Madison, anytime you try to communicate with me, I'll try to communicate back as well and as soon as I can." It felt like a huge commitment to say it, but in the next moment Carson realized what Ronon had meant about already accepting Rodney as family. "I should probably tell your uncle that's true for him to, and John by extension. Now what part of your concerns should we tackle next?"

"What about Murderbot?" Madison put a hand out toward Murderbot's corner of the table, and while Carson had never noticed social touching between them before, Murderbot shifted so their outside finger touched the side of Madison's pinky. Madison looked directly at Murderbot's cameras. "This is where I always get it wrong in other friendships, but I can't imagine not responding so long as Murderbot wanted to communicate with me. Is Murderbot part of our forever family the way you see it?"

"Yes, and Hanso, too." Then Carson looked up to R2-D2 on the shelf. "I don't mean to dismiss any other BotKin, but I haven't interacted enough to really know about you yet. Is that a problem for you, R2-D2?"

After a cheerful burble R2-D2 said, "I don't understand humans the way Murderbot or Hanso do. I am happy you let me watch and ask questions when needed. I do not think I have feelings about this and do not see a problem now. Thank you for asking."

"What about you, Murderbot? How do you feel?" Carson asked.

Murderbot's lenses zoomed almost all the way closed and then opened again. "It had not occurred to me I might be part of any family. I like that Madison calls me friend and wants to communicate with me indefinitely. Talking about feelings this way is hard, and I would rather write fanfic. I thought I understood why Madison did that this morning, because I had made that choice before. Now I think I might in this moment empathize with Madison wanting to escape the conversation about flirting today or end the conversation about flirting after buying paca fruit. Even though neither of those conversations bothered me, I see a pattern where they involved Madison having challenging feelings that were made harder by trying to communicate. Is that similar to when I want to be silent or sit on a shelf and watch like R2-D2 is doing now?"

Madison nodded emphatically. "I think so." Then after a pause and more nodding they added, "I think you said that really well. I wish I could record it and play it back later for training."

"I will type it out the next time I document trainings and send it to you," Murderbot said, as if that were a perfectly normal option.

Madison took a couple of deep breaths and visibly relaxed before saying, "Thank you."

Carson was impressed with how well both Madison and Murderbot had handled the whole conversation. He hadn't done much at all, except to provide dinner. Now he followed his instincts and offered, "Madison, would you like some hot chocolate?"

"Yes! I don't even care if this is another thing you guessed about me by analogy to my uncle. And we need to watch the movie _Lilo and Stitch_ together. It's about another culture's understanding of family and has an alien in it, so maybe we should wait for Ronon to see it with us? Would he like something like that? It's a kids' movie made by Disney."

Not only was Madison right that he was offering hot chocolate partly because he knew Rodney would want it at a moment like this, but Carson found himself basking in their cheerful babble much the way he did with Rodney sometimes. As he started heating milk in the kitchen, Carson said, "There's a good chance Ronon and his team have seen it, if it's a Disney movie. They seem to have watched a lot of kids or family movies together as Torren was growing up."

#

"If you're going to go on and on about this, I at least need dinner. With three so called medical practitioners in the room, you'd think someone would take into account my hypoglycemia." While it wasn't as bad as quarantine, Rodney and the others had been pulled into the meeting room nearest the Gate as soon as they'd finished their second decontamination (the one where they took off the suits and submitted to chemical decontamination showers before being allowed access to the clothes they'd started the day wearing).

Biro and Somchai gave each other a significant look, and then Biro said, "That could probably be arranged."

Less than a minute later, Hanso rolled into the meeting room carrying the most carefully stacked tray of mess hall food Rodney had ever seen. Since BotKin still weren't allowed in the mess hall—for reasons too stupid to dwell on—that implied it wasn't only the BotKin who had planned for Rodney's wellbeing. Possibly someone had planned for the whole team coming back hungry, but that wasn't what mattered most to Rodney in the moment.

Hanso unloaded item after item until the triangular meeting table was covered with possibilities. Rodney managed to snag plates with lava pasta, meat triangles, and mashed purple potatoes for himself. Ronon beat him to the panini, and there were no desserts, at least not yet. But Hanso had brought the good coffee, so Rodney settled in happily enough as the others talked.

Dr. Biro began by projecting the decontamination summary from the first cleaning of their suits at the alpha site. "While some of the chemical contaminants listed may also merit further study, the factor that Hanso pointed out to me as soon as this file arrived is the second item listed under 'known biological threats.' While the novel coxsackievirus we were trying to contain registers at levels consistent with yesterday's water samples, we hadn't expected the virus we tagged for the Bad Blood to be present in mud from this dig site far upstream."

"Do you believe Bad Blood spread through the local water supply as well?" Teyla asked.

"It's not that sort of a virus," Biro answered. "We have strong evidence that it is only spread through close contact between humans, or possibly certain animals. I wouldn't expect to find noticeable levels in water unless someone infected had used the area as a latrine recently."

"I'm citing this moment the next time anyone complains about my dinner conversation," Rodney said around a relatively small bite of meat triangle.

"Ronon and I were the ones stomping around in that muck," John said, fork resting on a plate still more than half full of lava pasta.

"The two of you did register the highest levels during suit decontamination," Biro said, as if that had been the question.

"Obviously, all of you came through clean on your final scans, or you'd be in quarantine right now," Somchai said.

Ronon grunted around what looked like a turkey drumstick, only larger. Cirillo turned away in distaste, which might have been why Ronon did it.

"Without violating patient confidentiality," Somchai said, "I can only say that the six people recovered from that site could not have generated this level of Bad Blood virus through natural bodily functions."

"So either there are more people living there or this indicates a previously unknown vector," Biro said. "Routine Jumper scans should have picked up the former, so Hanso has asked to research the latter. I will continue my own research into the novel coxsackievirus. It would help if the next mission to that site could include systematics sample collection, for confirmation and to test for other contaminants our decon programs might not flag."

"I am done with that planet," Rodney muttered.

Taran cleared her throat and said, "I had hoped to return to the populated areas tomorrow to see if our supply drops would encourage further cooperation. Given the state of Kovat's family, I fear that without our assistance there could be fatalities due to sinus and respiratory swelling or complications due to high fever."

Biro nodded slowly. "It does seem to be an aggressive strain, and given previous work with coxsackieviruses, I'm not optimistic about finding a targeted treatment or vaccine for this one."

"If we're going anyway, I'd be happy to collect more samples for Hanso," Taran said.

"The not-so-mini-bots could sample surface mud or dirt adequately without putting a person on the ground," Rodney said. "I could probably make a small drilling attachment to help with fly by sampling and surveying, if I don't get dragged along for the house calls tomorrow."

Cirillo spoke for the first time all meeting. "Perhaps it's time to assign a medical team, with military protection, to work with Healer Taran. The rest of you could focus on the science and engineering considerations, with separate missions as needed."

"Agreed," John said. "We have a disaster first response team that includes medics but is all military. They could escort Healer Taran and any other medical personnel deemed necessary, and also secure an offworld field hospital site if necessary."

Just when Rodney was hoping the meeting would end, Taran said, "I'm concerned taking samples from a sacred place could cause further distrust among portions of the LoSeco community."

"They may be living downstream from a toxic waste site," Rodney grumbled as he scraped together the last of his food.

Somchai pretended to ignore him and said, "Perhaps the other healers will see the folly in treating the symptoms and ignoring the cause."

"Perhaps," Taran echoed, "But I have an idea that might suit local politics, if someone here can sanction it."

"We're listening," Cirillo said.

"We included the picture and admitted to finding infected patients upstream, both to clear our own names and to explain our knowledge of the water issues." Taran pushed away her plate and leaned forward to continue, "If we claim the right to punish the people who damaged our reputation by starting this outbreak, I might convince local leaders that your sense of justice demands they set right the damage they did. Since they're in no state to minister to the ill at present, we could ask that they do the groundwork for removing or sealing off the dangerous pipe system. Those who see it as a sacred place might see that as minimizing the desecration. Those who see it as cursed may believe those already cursed can't do any more harm."

"Or they could demand their own form of justice, for example, killing our patients," Somchai protested. "At the very least, I want to confirm future immunity and discuss negotiation strategy with my patients first."

"Talk to them, but trust me to negotiate away from anything too extreme," Taran said.

"I do not foresee a better way to broach the subject," Teyla said.

"Sure," Ronon agreed, plate long empty. "We done?"

Rodney envied the ease with which Ronon ended the meeting.

#

By the time Carson, Madison, Murderbot and other interested BotKin finished watching _Lilo and Stitch_ , Ronon and the others still hadn't returned. Madison felt strangely wound up inside, but they were happy with the movie and thought Carson had enjoyed it.

"How do you feel about midnight snacks?" Madison asked Carson, who was nestled in the reinforced and padded lawn chair that Hanso had brought up previously. "Or would you rather go to sleep?"

Carson smiled and started moving to get up. "I doubt I'll want more than a cup of tea. But it's only nine o'clock. I could help you make cookies to share with others when they return. Could you give me a hand up?"

Madison wasn't sure how to help, but they stood in front of Carson and off to one side and then reached both arms forward for Carson to grab or move as suited him. He took one elbow and the other hand, and they figured it out together as Madison said, "If we make bar cookies with oatmeal and nuts, they'll be almost as healthy as power bars."

Carson smiled and patted Madison's hand as he got his feet under him. "Somehow I'm guessing they'll involve more chocolate."

"And caramel," Madison volunteered.

"I believe I know the recipe you mean," Murderbot said. "I'll gather the ingredients and grease a pan." They also started the water heating for Carson's tea.

R2-D2 moved from the movie room shelf to the dining room shelf, which also had a fine view of the kitchen.

#

Halfway through making bar cookies, Madison found they wanted to talk about the very thing they'd been avoiding talking about before. But they didn't want to break down and be upset in front of Carson as they had with Murderbot on the pier. Taking stock, Madison was surprised to find that they felt more settled in their skin than they had at any time in the last several days.

"Carson," Madison began as they sprinkled chocolate chips into the pan.

They must have paused too long, because Carson prompted with "mm-hmm?" from where he sat with his tea.

"You didn't comment at all on the flirting part before. I know you weren't there when we were moving boxes with Damien or buying fruit from Donil, but you saw the part with Jake at the frosting flower workshop, and you're probably the only person I know who identifies as male and masculine that I'm willing to ask about this."

"Honestly, I think Ronon might understand the people you're dealing with better than I do. He would probably be happy to speak with you, if you let him know you want to hear what he has to say." The way Carson looked when he talked about Ronon made Madison want to ask about terms like "in love" or "gone on" that they never fully understood. But Carson continued by saying, "Since you ask, I wasn't comfortable with how Jake treated you during the workshop. I don't know if he was flirting or just wanted an audience to stroke his ego. I may well be biased, but I thought he should treat you better, wait for you to answer, and pay attention when you seemed uncomfortable with his proximity or his words."

"Really?" No one had ever told Madison someone more normal should pay more attention to what Madison wanted, but that might be because he saw it as a boy girl thing.

"Really. I don't know why you look so shocked. I thought what you said to Sophia was fine, too. Even if I wouldn't have confronted her that way myself, even if we were of an age and all that, but I thought Jake was extremely out of line to belittle you the way he did in front of your writing group and where others might hear. At the very least he could have asked if you wanted his opinion and then offered it privately." Carson seemed positively riled up by the end of that speech. Madison had never seen anything like it, at least not on their behalf.

"You look like you want to give him a shovel talk," Madison said as they put the final layer of nuts on top of the cookies and slid them into the oven.

Carson took a slow sip of tea, obviously considering. "I don't know that term, but if you wanted me to explain these things to him directly, I would be willing to do that. I didn't want to overstep before, but Ronon might well say it's a fitting role for what he calls an elder."

It wasn't instantaneous, but that was the last thing said before Ronon and the other walked into the room. The first sentence uttered afterward was Rodney shouting, "Yes! I knew they'd make dessert."

#

That night, Carson rested on top of Ronon in the bath surrounded by the scent of nuts and honey. "Smells like the cookies Madison made."

"Leaves your skins soft afterward, but you won't smell it much." Ronon spoke under him as Ronon's hands stroked circles on his chest and belly. With the warm water lapping around them, Carson felt surrounded by his lover.

"I ended up mentioning forever family and the role of elders while talking with Madison and Murderbot tonight," Carson said. "I tried to be clear that it was just my understanding as I tried to find my role in this place and time, but I also suggested you'd be willing to talk if they assured you they wanted to hear your perspective."

"About forever family?" Ronon asked.

"That and some encounters they've had that may have involved flirting or accusations of flirting. I saw some of the interactions with a scientist from Earth who's in their writing group, but I kept my opinion to myself at the time." Carson let his fingers trace Ronon's wrist even as Ronon traced Carson's ribs. The synchronous movements soothed Carson despite the topic of conversation. "When asked directly, I told Madison what I disliked about the way he treated them and that I thought they deserved better. I even offered to talk with him about it directly if they ever wanted me to. Before I thought that would be overstepping, especially since I'm not their parent or even their uncle. But from the look on Madison's face, I wonder if any adult ever stuck up for them or made them feel valued before."

"Funny, with the way Rodney insists on his own value all the time." Ronon's hands traced overlapping patterns across Carson's torso as if he were being woven into a cocoon.

"That could also come from no adult sticking up for him when he was younger. Do you think we should include him if Madison asks one of us to help them in the future?"

When Ronon sighed, Carson sank deeper for a moment. After that, Carson was aware of every breath as Ronon spoke. "Lucky enough to have a large forever family with multiple elders. Means Madison can choose."

Carson didn't want to argue. He wanted to enjoy the moment and Ronon's continued pursuit of all the touch they could both want. Nonetheless he said, "But Rodney's from Earth and might feel betrayed or inadequate. And I can tell he cares about Madison."

"Hadn't communicated with them for four years," Ronon grunted. "But you care enough that you want to explain it all to him." Ronon's arms wrapped tighter for a moment, hugging Carson to his chest. "Let Rodney know the rest of us care about Madison too. Explain forever family to him if you can."

"I'll do my best," Carson said. "I think we should do something for Hanso, too."

Ronon shifted to slide his hands along Carson's sides and onto his thighs. "I had an idea about that, but I need to talk to Taran and Biro about medical plants."

"Medical plants?" Carson asked.

"Like the ones in the Osalii ointment Taran brought, and it sounds like Hanso likes growing flowers. I thought Hanso might want a garden they could use for helping people or for experiments. And I want one of those balconies like people were discussing last night." As he spoke, Ronon's hands coasted along Carson's thighs and hips.

Carson had been stroking Ronon's arms, but found his fingers could sometimes skim the skin beneath. The brief touches to Ronon's sides or hips or thighs thrilled Carson in a way he couldn't explain. He knew Ronon would let him touch anywhere he pleased, but the unpredictability made these glancing touches feel illicit

"I'd forgotten all about that. I like the idea, too." Carson wasn't sure he was only talking about the balconies. He could feel Ronon's arousal growing beneath him. His own body wasn't responding that way at the moment, but he kept trying for extra touches whenever he could.

As Ronon's fingers swirled farther down the inside of Carson's thighs, he pulled a bit more firmly with each pass, guiding Carson up Ronon's body one buoyant centimeter at a time. When Ronon's half-filled cock slipped beneath Carson's thighs, it stroked his perineum as if designed to reach that spot.

As Carson hummed his pleasure, Ronon shivered beneath him.

"Let me know if there's some other touch you want."

"Maybe," Ronon said, thrusting slowly between Carson's thighs as his hand traced new patterns farther forward and sometimes through his pubic hair.

The water around them lapped in gently waves, stirring up the sweet scent of honey and tropical nuts.

Carson looked down his body, seeing the large, tan hands that danced over his flushed skin. For just a moment, he wished he could see from above, see Ronon between his thighs, but the thought of a mirror on the ceiling did not appeal at all. Carson's imagination combined with what he felt provided more than enough of a mental image.

Picturing all the ways they were touching each other made Carson felt more than connected. He was a little aroused, but beyond that, he became more attuned to his own body as well as his lover's. Intercourse would be intimate in a different sense, but what they were doing now was uniquely their own in a way that could never be. Carson flexed his thighs, and he felt as much as heard Ronon's indrawn breath. The position of Ronon's skin beneath his buttocks changed with every shift of Carson's muscles. If he clenched at the right time, he could hold Ronon's cock tight behind his balls and the sensitive spot behind them. The same motion made Ronon's wet skin seem to grip Carson's firmer ass.

"Please," Ronon said.

Carson repeated his clenching every time Ronon slid far enough forward. He knew Ronon could have pulled Carson back toward him or pressed Carson's thighs tighter, but Ronon kept his caresses gentle. He did wrap one hand around Carson's cock for a while, but that part wasn't getting any more responsive. When Ronon's palms grazed Carson's nipple or his toes squeezed the sides of Carson' feet, the unexpected sensations felt stronger by far.

For a long time Ronon was panting beneath Carson as they both tried to increase their shared sensitivity. Then Ronon came and Carson used his muscles as well as he could when Ronon lost his own rhythm and groaned and gulped his way through orgasm.

The vision Carson had constructed of how their body fit together persisted as he mostly felt his lovers' spasms and pleasure. He basked in the warm glow of Ronon's release even as Carson himself floated fairly calmly, half suspended in warm water.

Then Ronon's arms wrapped him in a steadying embrace. Ronon's hair tickled wet and affectionate behind Carson's ear. They stayed like that until Ronon's heartbeat and breathing matched Carson's own. Then they rinsed off as the tub drained and let warm jets of air blow them dry.

When they climbed into bed and carefully adjusted to a position Carson could sleep in, Ronon still couldn't seem to get enough of touching him. And Carson loved it.


	3. Chapter 3

Madison emerged from their bedroom intent on breakfast and almost collided with H511. The H series bots were the longest of the BotKin, with three linked box-like sections that were only about a foot wide but spanned over six feet in total length. It was as if a pixelated caterpillar currently filling most of one wall in Murderbot's room, the wall directly aligned with Madison's bedroom door.

"Sorry," Madison said with a yawn. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"Actually," H511 responded, voice projecting from a raised sensor box on the end nearest Madison. "I was waiting to speak with you."

Madison wondered what was so important that the bot would wait around for Madison to drag their sleepy biological ass out of bed rather than show up at their regular office hours. But office hours were in the main tower, and H511 officially lived in this tower, just across the suite from Madison. "Is it something about this tower?"

"It is."

"Would you mind if I eat while we talk?" Madison felt odd asking but was pretty sure most BotKin would see it as efficient.

"Not at all." Being entirely reversible, H511 raised a sensor box at their end by the other door, and rolled away from Madison and into the common area.

Murderbot shrugged but didn't follow as Madison made their way to the kitchen. R2-D2 moved quickly from the CatBot shelf in Murderbot's room to the one opposite the kitchen.

As Madison started some toast they asked H511, "What did you want to talk about?"

"At the community meeting, we agreed that any resident could create art on the wall of any community common area. The specific areas mentioned were floors five, ten, and fifteen. I am wondering if the roof garden and basement mushroom farm would also be included in this arrangement."

Madison sipped from a glass of juice and said, "I guess so. Is there some art you want to make?"

"No. What I believe to be poetry accompanied by basic illustrations has appeared on one mushroom farm wall. It has an attribution to Sylvia Plath at the bottom who I have determined is a dead Earth poet, but the art is not signed. I do not know if whoever drew the poem and illustration on the wall followed necessary decontamination protocols before entering the mushroom farm. If you could help me find the artist, I could determine if the current crop needs to be destroyed or if other interventions are required."

Madison came fully awake at that. "Wow, I didn't know mushroom farming was so precarious."

"The mushroom farm was designed for maximum yield by providing laminar airflow and sterile substrate," H511 explained. "The bot lift for that floor opens onto an auto-sterilizer for bots, but the transporter releases BioKin into an anti-room in which gloves, masks, and sterile scrubs are available, but nothing prevents a person arriving that way from walking directly through. An human artist might not realize the number of molds and other contaminants carried on a typical human body."

Madison had just showered but felt conspicuously biological and dirty anyway. There were crumbs all over their hands and the counter where they'd been buttering toast, and there was a grayish tinge of who knew what collected under their fingernails. "I think it would help to explain these concerns to everyone at our next meeting, or we could send a written message beforehand for those who read them." Madison was acutely aware some tower residents did not come from cultures with written languages, so they'd tried not to rely on messaging for general announcements, even though there was software available to read such messages aloud.

"Both," H511 agreed. "For now, I thought your access to Ancient systems might help determine who entered the mushroom farm between 1800 yesterday and 600 this morning. If we knew what floor the transporter stopped at before or after accessing the basement, I would know which group to collect information from."

Madison's brain was busy solving the technical problem before they considered it might be a breach of privacy. "Shoot, we need to discuss privacy protocols at the next community meeting for sure."

H511 did not comment.

Finishing their toast and juice, Madison said, "I'll look into it. But once I know what floor is involved, I may need to check with someone else before releasing the information to you." Madison figured they'd know whether to ask advice from Ronon, Carson, Kusanagi, or someone else once they knew which living group was involved.

H511 and R2-D2 followed Madison back as far as Murderbot's room, but Madison went into their own bedroom to access the Ancient systems more privately. The bots privacy protocols marked Madison's room access as by invite only, except for Murderbot, who usually asked before entering, but had an open invitation. Today Murderbot made no attempt to get involved.

Five minutes later, when Madison had found the information on access to the basement, checked it, checked it again, and checked for any signs the record had been altered, they decided to see if H511 was still waiting. Again, Madison found the long narrow bot filling most of a wall in Murderbot's room.

Madison announced, "The transporter log doesn't show anyone accessing the basement last night, or at any point after the week we first moved in. I guess it could have been tampered with, but either Kusanagi or my uncle would know more about how to check for that."

"More likely the artist is a BotKin and used the bot lift," R2-D2 said.

"That was my highest probability prediction from when H511 first asked," Murderbot said.

"Do you know who the artist is?" Madison asked.

"No, although I have predictions for that as well," Murderbot said. "If we've concluded the artist entered through the bot lift and therefore passed through the auto-sterilizer, it seems like a breach of privacy to inquire further."

Madison couldn't argue with that. "Since it sounds like a bad idea for me to try to visit to see the new art, can you at least tell me what it looks like?"

"I could recreate it with a writing utensil and paper," H511 responded. Murderbot passed him paper and pen, and H511 rapidly reproduced the eleven-stanza poem that began:

Overnight, very

Whitely, discretely,

Very quietly…

H511 included in their sketch a simple line drawing of a giant mushroom that the artist had evidently included, in case the poem's subject matter wasn't clear enough in context.

Madison couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sorry it worried you, H511, but I think that's a pretty amusing way to decorate a wall in a mushroom farm."

"I would have drawn a different mushroom," H511 replied.

"Oh really, which one?" Madison asked.

Turning the paper over, H511 drew a more elaborate mushroom with a flared and rippling cap.

"That's beautiful," Madison said. "Is it from Pegasus?"

"I do not know," H511 said. "The Ancients left seeds, and I grew some in the experimental beds. They are marked as edible, but are not as easy to grow in bulk as the type the mess hall requested."

R2-D2 then asked from the CatBot shelf, "Could we draw mushrooms here? As if the cat bot shelf is a substrate from which they grow? We could draw one or two now and people could add more later, as if more are growing."

It was one of the longest utterances Madison had heard the usually quiet CatBot offer when not responding to a direct question.

"What would we draw with?" Murderbot asked.

"I have a bag of multi-colored Sharpies that should work. At Caltech we couldn't use them on the walls, but they're on the approved list for all Ancient surfaces." Madison rushed back into their room to get the permanent markers. By the time they left for work, there were more than a couple of mushrooms drawn above that CatBot shelf, and R2-D2 had gone off to draw just one at the base of a doorframe on the fifteenth floor, wondering if others would notice and draw more.

#

Hanso came out from their own room as Carson and Ronon were getting dressed. Carson knew the bot had been busy with new research on the Bad Blood virus, and when Hanso waited without speaking Carson thought to ask, "Good morning Hanso, was there something you needed?"

"I need to ask questions, but I am not sure of all the questions I need to ask," Hanso said while flashing two lights.

"Are these questions to do with your research on Bad Blood?" Carson asked as he finished pulling on a tightly woven blue shirt Ronon had given him.

"No, they are questions about family and what it is appropriate to say."

At that Ronon, who was fully dressed except for his bare feet, took a seat on the bed in front of Hanso, giving the bot his full attention. Carson followed suit and sat beside Ronon.

Ronon was the one to say, "Go ahead. You can ask us anything."

Hanso blinked three lights and said, "When Dr. Biro asked me about being a traveling med bot, an idea she and Lansol had discussed before, I said I would want to be here with both of you doing research most of the time. I did not think that violated any topics you would not want me to discuss."

Carson glanced at Ronon who said, "That sounds fine. You should always be able to speak on your own behalf."

Three lights flashed and Hanso said, "I thought you would say that. Next, Backup Brain asked me why I would stay with you when my research was mostly independent or involved Biro or Backup Brain. They added that Carson would not need my help if the xenotransplant was successful. I told them I was learning something else with you, but I did not tell them about forever family." Hanso waved an antenna in a rare questioning gesture but continued speaking. "Both Biro and Backup Brain were paying close attention, and I believe they would have listened and benefited from what I could explain of the concept. If my model of Satedan family and privacy beliefs is correct, I am more than 99 percent certain you would approve of my explaining in that situation. But the question was not time sensitive. I told them I would prefer to check with you before answering."

"Thank you," Ronon said. "But you were right. It is okay to tell them what you understand about forever family. Could you tell me what more you want to learn with us?"

"I want to learn everything," Hanso said, and Carson couldn't help reaching out a hand to rest on the bot's chassis. It may not mean much to Hanso, but then again, it might. He thought of Murderbot and Madison touching fingers and wondered if it was the same with them. Hanso continued along the same lines, "I think I see Madison and Murderbot becoming part of your forever family. I think R2-D2 is focusing their training on similar observations. Lassie is mostly focused on Madison, but is creating better models of multi-person systems as well. I want to model all those systems as well, but I also want to be part of the multi-person system that is a forever family. If that system is meant to stabilize its members and community over time, then I think I will want to be here as long as the family lasts. Or as long as I am wanted or allowed."

"Is that why you made scones and gave everyone presents?" Carson asked.

Hanso blinked only two lights. "I do not know how to explain that event, other than what I told you already about wanting to give gifts of my own. That event is part of being me in this multi-person system. I think I am a giver of gifts and maker of food as much as I am a researcher or a carer for Carson or others."

Carson didn't know how to respond beyond patting Hanso's side. He was all choked up.

Luckily, Ronon found words. "Spoken like a true Satedan. Or as true as I know how to be." Ronon looked to Carson, and his face softened in reflection of the emotions he must have seen written there. "You will have a place with us as long as you choose to be part of our family. And you can probably trust your models now on what it's okay to share."

"But feel free to talk to us about anything," Carson said. "This means a lot to me."

"I think it means a lot to me, too," Hanso said.

#

It only took Rodney a couple hours to design mini-core sampling attachments for his not-so-mini-bots. Data had become interested in the new flying bots, and Rodney questioned the BotKin about alternatives to optimize the design. Then he was ready to run the survey (not setting foot on Lo Seco, so not immediately contradicting his own refusal to return there), but both John and Cirillo said they had to wait for Taran's team to update them on what the locals wanted.

Rodney muttered to the CatBot on his workbench, "Data, do you think locals who don't understand the science should have a say in how we test for and try to contain these contaminants?"

"Yes."

That was a very definitive answer and not the one Rodney had been expecting Data to give. "How can you say that? They haven't even looked at the data. They have no way of imagining viruses and probably won't believe our images as evidence."

Data rolled forward an inch or two and said, "If the goal of the project is to provide access to better health and healthcare for the people of Lo Seco, then only those people, once adequately informed, can decide what is 'better' for them or what risks are acceptable, as those are qualitative and not quantitative variables."

Rodney shook his head, but couldn't help being a little impressed that Data was ready to debate such topics. "Did you hear that from Somchai? Have you been trusting medical doctors to teach you about science?"

"I have had no direct training time with Khun Somchai although other BotKin have shared their trainings with his permission," Data said. "My reasoning is based on Murderbot's citations for the new tower proposal and on training from you and Dr. Kusanagi regarding qualitative variables and the limitations of data. I am also aware of the humor in me stating that."

Rodney's jaw dropped, but he recovered quickly to say, "Let me know if you start writing fanfiction."

Then Rodney's radio beeped and John's voice said, "Taran reported back and our mission is go. Grab your new bots and a quick lunch. I'll meet you in the Jumper Bay in thirty minutes."

#

Madison had enjoyed a very successful morning in the basement lab with Murderbot. Their models for early BotKin training were showing good reliability for CatBots, LabBots, MedBots, and Murderbot. The SamplerBots and H-series modeling were going to require a whole new dataset, but for now they were happy to focus on improving their understanding of the other four. While Murderbot had stayed to transcribe more training data, Madison had been forced to take a break for lunch.

They arrived in the mess hall a bit after the usual lunch rush, and the only vegetarian hot entrée remaining was overly greasy falafel. Still, Madison built a reasonably good salad to accompany the deep-fried balls of whatever they used here and sat down at an empty two-person table by a window. While Madison could easily forget to spend time outside for days in a row, the amazing ocean views from almost every window in Atlantis, made them smile just to be living in such a beautiful and unique place.

"Mind if I join you?" a man in a standard science uniform asked.

He was already setting his tray down as Madison said, "Sure." It was the expected response, although Madison would have been happier eating alone. They could see several other empty tables, some with very similar views.

"I'm Julian from astronomy. I noticed you eating alone and thought I'd say hello."

"Oh, I'm Madison from computer science, pronouns they and them."

From the way Julian nodded, he probably already knew all that and more, pretty much everyone on Atlantis knew more about Madison than they knew about any but their closest acquaintances by this point.

"So what do you do for fun, other than playing Island Empire?" Julian asked, suggesting he also knew Madison and Murderbot were the hippogriffs in game, which also hadn't been much of a secret since the new towers in both the game and real life had been awarded obviously similar charters.

"I don't play that much anymore," Madison managed around a lump in their throat. They ate a falafel hoping to avoid conversation by not speaking while their mouth was full, but the falafel stuck in their throat, and they had to drink a lot of water to wash it down.

Meanwhile, Julian was smiling at them, and Madison wasn't sure if he was hiding laughter at their awkwardness or pleased by something they couldn't fathom. He said, "I'm not much of a gamer myself. "I like fishing and stargazing, of course. Have you had a chance to study the night sky here?"

"Mm, not really." Madison wasn't sure if it would be better or worse to admit they'd never been that interested in astronomy back on Earth, so they didn't say anything more.

"I could show you the basics. Tonight maybe?"

"Sorry, I'm busy," Madison said, it was even true.

"Tomorrow?"

"I'm busy then, too. Really, I don't have a lot of free time, but thanks for offering." Madison shoved a bite of salad in their mouth, no longer caring much about table manners. They just wanted to finish and leave.

"Tell me the next night you have free, and I'll put you on my calendar." Julian leaned forward, and for once Madison was fairly certain that counted as flirting.

They still didn't know how to handle it. Taking as long as humanly possible to chew a bite of salad, Madison couldn't come up with anything better to say than, "Sorry, I just don't think that would work out."

"Is it McKay you're worried about?" Julian asked. "I assure you I know ways to work around McKay. There are places he wouldn't find you. I could even ghost some other meeting onto your schedule if you need an excuse."

That offer caused Madison to really look at the man across from them for the first time. He had a blockish face and build that Madison could only describe as classically masculine and not too young. His hair was dark brown and fairly short for someone not in the military, and his skin seemed quite tan for an astronomer. Madison recognized that was all based on stereotypes, but they had never known any astronomers well and hadn't seen so many really short haircuts before coming to work with military types. Finally they managed to say, "Dr. McKay has no say in what I do. But I'm as busy as I want to be right now."

"How will you know what you like if you don't try new things?" He shifted a hand from his coffee cup to brush their wrist, and Madison nearly flung a forkful of salad off the table.

"Please, don't." Madison tried to sound firm.

"What? You only like to be touched by robots?" Julian said it lightly, as if Madison was being ridiculous. "Give a guy a chance and you might be pleasantly surprised." He touched Madison again, literally stroking their arm.

Madison jumped away and was standing without further thought. The forkful of salad they'd been worried about flinging now clattered noisily to the ground. Faces turned their way. Madison froze for a moment not sure whether to grab their tray or just walk away.

"Aw, don't be like that." Julian leaned back and smiled as if he hadn't touched or provoked Madison at all. "It was just a little friendly conversation."

"Insinuating things about my friends it not friendly," Madison said, realizing they were taking a public stand again and that hadn't turned out well last time. After their long hesitation, they felt obliged to pick up the fallen fork and then their tray before turning to leave.

"A bot, even some really advanced Ancient servant type, can't be your friend or lover or whatever," Julian said, still seated and now calmly clasping his coffee. "You can't go leading people on and then acting like bots are better than people just because you can program them to do what you want."

Madison felt tears at the back of their eyes, but focused on their righteous indignation to hold the tears back. Their voice was still higher and scratchier than they liked as they said, "You don't know me, and you clearly have no understanding of the BotKin or my work. Please stay away from me in the future."

As they walked away, Julian made some final reply. But Madison couldn't hear it over the screaming in their head. It felt like everyone in the mess hall was watching as they bussed their tray and tried to leave the mess hall as normally as possible.

#

"My new core sampler attachment is a resounding success," Rodney announced to John, since they were the only two in the Jumper for this sampling and scanning mission. Despite being ordered not to land on the supposedly sacred ground unless someone's life was endangered, they'd been required to wear biohazard suits with all but the hoods in place for the duration. So Rodney was a bit surprised when John's hand landed on his thigh, but he could feel the warmth and pressure through the suit.

"I'm not sure how soon we'll be allowed to do any real work," John said, kneading Rodney's thigh in an only slightly distracting manner. "Taran got consent from some healers for this fly over, but the town elder is still refusing to talk to her. They seem to have split into factions, and the guards who met us at the Gate are part of his."

"First, what I'm doing is real work." Rodney's protest was met with distracting strokes up and down his thigh. "Second, they have no idea how bad the problem might be. My scans are showing at least 2000 meters of pipe in this system. If they're all layered with the new virus, not to mention any cache of Bad Blood or other biologicals we might find, this is going to be a major long term clean-up headache."

John pulled his hand away, and Rodney missed his touch at once. "That sounds bad. Could bots do the work? I'm reluctant to put troops on the ground in biohazard suits for multiple days."

"Taran's idea for having the people we rescued do some of the work seems fair to me, if they come out immune to the new virus and we immunize them for Bad Blood." Rodney wanted to reach out to John but kept his hands and mind on his work instead. The subject matter wasn't particularly conducive to flirting. "The problem with viruses is that without knowing what to expect, there's no way to deploy bots first to test for all threats. Also, if it turns out these lizard people used multiple viruses as weapons, what's to say they didn't rig explosives or other traps that could destroy BotKin? With what we're seeing from the BotKin lately, I can't sacrifice them any more than you'd sacrifice troops. The BotKin aren't military or our employees either, and I'm not sure I'd want them volunteering for this."

"Okay," John nodded, settling over the next location where they released bots to take samples, "I might agree about the BotKin, but other bots, like the ones you made for water and core sampling, you agree they're expendable and meant to go places humans either can't reach or shouldn't risk?"

Rodney's hand flew over both Jumper and smaller instruments as he scanned through data in real time. "We can design devices to be expendable. I've already come up with plans to surround and secure these pipes in place if that turns out to be our best option. But some decisions that seem trivial to a human, like how best to deal with tree roots growing around or through a pipe, are very hard to anticipate and program. We could end up spending a lot of time and materials that we might not make use of ever again, if we try to handle this whole project with only bots."

With a nod, John called back the last of the bots who docked on the sides of the jumper and deposited samples as necessary. The rest of their mission for today involved spiraling farther and farther out to see if scans showed other buried pipes or other ruins that might need analysis and containment. They were also checking for any unexpected life signs, which was the main reason Somchai had insisted they suit up, in case another emergency rescue was needed. Rodney thought that was very unlikely, and this time he reached a hand across to kneed John's thigh.

About twenty seconds later when John shifted and sighed, Rodney says, "You're thinking of the time I blew you in the Jumper, aren't you?" Rodney let his hand brush up against John's cock, and found his lover was at least half hard.

"Like I haven't been thinking about that since you and I got in this Jumper alone."

"Somchai would kill us if we took off the biohazard suits or got them messy. Imagine the meeting to analyze those decon results." Rodney hadn't meant that part to be teasing, but maybe John had some hidden exhibitionist streak, because his cock jumped under Rodney's hand.

"If you're going to toy with me and not deliver, I will totally get you back with a toy tonight." John was flushed and breathing faster than usual.

Not quite sure why he was having such a dramatic effect on John at the moment, Rodney had to take the experiment a bit farther. "You say that like it's a threat, but I told you how I put beads inside myself while working in a public lab in grad school. If you wanted to take a walk on the pier tonight with the toys I made us in place, I'm game if you are."

John shivered and said, "Shouldn't you be paying attention to these scans we're making?"

"I have all the necessary alerts programmed in and automated. I can pay plenty of attention to you while keeping an eye out for anything unexpected. Just like you watched out for unexpected hazard with the Jumper on autopilot that time when I crouched between your thighs and sucked in first your crown." Rodney teased the area in question as well as he could through the yellow suit. The bulky clothing made the challenge more interesting for the scientist. "Then I cradled your balls while sucking you deep into my throat." Rodney slid his hand down. "I knew you could barely move your hips, confined as you were in the pilot seat. So I slowed down whenever you were straining too hard. It may have taken a bit longer, but I think we were both happy with the results."

It wasn't a surprise to Rodney at all when John's arm reached across to possessively grab Rodney's pec. He pressed just hard enough to find Rodney's left nipple and rub back and forth until it tightened. "I remember catching my breath to find you back in the passenger seat, so hard your pants were tented tight. I could have given you a quick hand job, but your nipples were so tempting in the tight science shirt you wore that day. I started teasing one of them first, and you were groaning and squirming almost immediately."

John started circling his finger in the present as he reminisced about the past. "I had never realized that being hot and bothered from giving a blow job could make your nipples so desperate for touch. I started circling and then rolling the one I could reach between my fingers like this." John suited actions to words, and Rodney's cock was soon just as hard as John's was under his hand. "I'd planned to reach down and get you off eventually, but a few seconds before it happened, I realized I could get you off just by playing with your nipples. I'd never seen that from anyone before, and it was the hottest thing when it happened."

While the layers of tight and then bulky clothes were more uncomfortable than ever, Rodney was buzzing with endorphins and beyond caring how much work he had piling up in lab. "We only need a couple more minutes of scans. What do you say we sneak back to our room or at least the closet by the infirmary after this?"

"Oh, I don't think so," John said. "I'm solidly booked for meetings, and I told you if you teased me I'd get you back with a toy tonight. I'm thinking I'll keep you on remote control from dinner until I decide you can come."

"Just me?" Rodney asked, not minding the idea, as he'd expected John to want that the first night when he brought out the toys.

"I think that's what I promised for tonight. You'll have to wait for further details." John removed the hand pressing at Rodney's nipple and then used it to lift Rodney's hand from John's cock back to Rodney's side of the Jumper. "Time to head back through the Gate and back to work."

Squirming in his suit, Rodney tried not to think about what John might have planned for that night.

#

Between his physical therapy and dialysis appointments, Carson sat with Lansol, mostly watching him sleep or babble semi-coherently when he woke. It was only when he came back after his own dialysis to see Lansol blink himself awake and then smile in clear recognition, that Carson dared to hope.

"Good seeing you again, Healer Carson. Do I remember rightly that they completed both transplants? Does this mean they worked?" Lansol asked.

"They worked for now," Carson owed Lansol honesty. "We'll know better in a day or two if there are no immediate signs or rejection or infection."

"At the very least, I helped prove it could be done."

"Your life means so much more than that," Carson said, taking Lansol's hand.

Lansol squeezed as if to reassure Carson. "You know I hope to do so much more, but for today, this is enough. Now tell me how the meeting I missed went."

With a shake of his head, Carson settled in to tell all he could remember of the eventful meeting.

When Lansol drifted off again, Carson made his way as quickly as he could to Biro's large white lab, the nearest place he could expect to find a MedBot. "Hello, Biro and Backup Brain."

"Good to see you out and about," Biro said, looking up from a sample she'd been studying to study Carson instead. "Looks like you barely need the walker now. By the way you wield it, you look like a man on a mission."

"You know me too well," Carson shrugged. "I was talking with Lansol, who's awake and doing well."

"Glad to hear it," Biro said.

"Yes," Carson nodded and looked to Backup Brain. "I was just wondering if there might be a MedBot interested in helping Lansol. He hopes to someday travel with a MedBot to bring care and information to isolated communities. Right now, we don't know if he'll even survive, so I'm not asking for any BotKin to commit to going off world. But I think it would mean a lot to him to have someone like Hanso show an interest. And he is the last of a people wiped out by the Wraith and the first to try this xenotransplant procedure. Is there a way to check if any of the MedBots are interested?"

"Dr. Carson, I will share your inquiry," Backup Brain said, training their cameras on Carson as they spoke. "Currently, MedBot 2 is committed with another patient for at least two weeks, and they are the only other MedBot besides Hanso and me."

"Oh, I hadn't realized," Carson said, feeling like he should have known how few MedBots there were.

"What about a CatBot?" Biro asked. "They monitor health and wellbeing, and some have been very curious about Pegasus natives who signed up for bot training."

"I'm not even sure if CatBots have been visiting Lansol or others on the medical center floor of our tower," Carson said, realizing again how little he knew about BotKin. "I believe Lansol would welcome a visit from any interested BotKin."

"I will share your suggestion," Backup Brain said, before going to a vent and using whatever message system the BotKin had developed without access to Ancient tech.

"Why don't the other BotKin have tablets or other Earth tech like Hanso and Backup Brain use for their research?" Carson asked almost rhetorically as Biro's gaze was drawn back to some sample under her microscope. "Then they could message each other the same way we do."

Biro answered without looking up, "Maybe they don't want their messages on our systems."

That added a whole new level to the issues Carson hadn't considered about BotKin.

#

However the bots' messaging and social preferences worked, both Hanso and Cheshire were waiting with Carson when Lansol awoke a couple hours later.

"Good company, Carson, Hanso, and one I've not yet met with lovely reflective lines, like shooting stars in the sky." Lansol spoke easily and in a manner Carson thought to be completely coherent for him.

Cheshire waggled antennae and lit up a single light in front. Then Hanso said, "It is good to see you awake, Lansol. I want to introduce Cheshire, pronouns he and him, who would like to train with you, if you are interested."

"I don't know how long I'll be awake, but I am honored to meet you Cheshire and would greatly appreciate your company." Lansol smiled as Cheshire's front light blinked rapidly and then Hanso set the CatBot beside Lansol on the bed.

"Greetings, Lansol. May I touch and monitor you?" Cheshire pushed up on four spindly legs.

"Of course," Lansol responded, and then to Carson he said with a smile, "Thank you for bringing them."

"They brought themselves," Carson said. "I only put the word out that you might welcome BotKin company, based on our last talk on the physical therapy floor."

"I still thank you," he said to Carson, followed by, "and you Hanso."

"If you do not mind and feel up to it," Hanso said, "I had a few questions about Bad Blood as I refocus my research."

"I don't mind talking about any subject you please, but it might help if you ask specific questions, since I've been living with the Bad Blood for many years."

"You have?" Carson asked, not having known that before. There were cases where symptoms would appear and then recede for a while before cropping up stronger again, but patients rarely survived more than two years from first appearance.

"Indeed," Lansol said, settling back into his pillows as Cheshire crept lightly across his chest. "I may have contracted it back on Tondo, the planet of my people. I kept a base camp there long after the Wraith culled them all. In truth, there wasn't much to salvage, but I performed rights for the dead as I was able to over the years. When I first noticed the thickening in my ankles and changes in my vision, I knew those were signs I would have brought to a local healer's attention in times past. My people had suffered from the Bad Blood, among other afflictions, but it wasn't until much later in my travels that I heard it was common on Lo Seco and there were healers there who could help. By then I suspected what I had, and I didn't want to die alone."

When Lansol paused, Cheshire asked, "Would you like some water?"

"I'm not thirsty," Lansol said, "but my mouth and throat are dry."

Carson pushed up from his chair to pour some water from the pitcher beside the bed, but Hanso beat him to it, adding a lid with a metal straw and swinging a small tray over the bed to set it on. Then Cheshire helped Lansol drink. He smiled at Carson around the straw and when he finished said, "I am well taken care of here. You should go home and spend time with your family, as healers so often forget to do."

Carson didn't want to leave, but he knew Lansol was right. "I'll be back to see you tomorrow, and I'll let Somchai know you're awake and sharing stories with the BotKin."

#

Rodney had been back from the survey mission less than an hour when he heard Madison's name being mentioned by a pair of scientists he passed in the hall. Not long after, a physics postdoc in his own lab told Goose, one of the CatBots, that Kusanagi was looking for Madison after some incident.

Switching to a dummy account he'd set up a while back as part of an Ancient system security sweep, Rodney logged into Elven Intrigue. There was a graffiti grotto under the old castle that those who obtained a secret key could access. Most of the science department had earned a secret key by the time the game fell out of fashion. In the years since, the graffiti grotto had gained new popularity as an easy place for scientists to share real world gossip with virtually guaranteed anonymity. It was certainly the easiest place for Rodney to catch up on gossip other scientists wouldn't usually share with him.

It took only moments for Rodney to find claims that Madison would have been kicked out of Caltech if their uncle Rodney McKay, a powerful alum, hadn't swept in with an offer from Atlantis. There was some other stuff about Madison and the BotKin, but the ones involving Rodney and Caltech were by far the worst.

Rodney logged out and stomped out of the lab without a word to anyone.

After checking Kusanagi's main lab and the BotKin room in the basement, Rodney was more than fed up by the time he reached home and found Murderbot typing frantically with the door open to their room, which happened to be in front of Madison's.

"Is Madison in their room?" Rodney demanded from the open doorway.

"Yes," Murderbot said without looking up. When Rodney stepped inside Murderbot continued, "But they asked for some time alone."

That didn't stop Rodney from walking up to Madison's doorway and knocking loudly. "Madison, we need to talk!"

When Madison ignored him, Rodney pounded harder, "Madison! I left work for this and hunted all over the main tower. Come out and talk to me!"

Murderbot commented, "If they hadn't before, then Madison has probably now disabled the vibrational amplification that makes knocking audible despite the soundproofing on these rooms."

"You could let me in through the bot lift!" Rodney rounded on Murderbot.

"I could not," Murderbot spoke with the same calm cadence and moderate volume as before, but they had stopped typing and were moving some items back farther on their desk. "The preference setting for the bot lift door on Madison's side is currently set for emergency access only."

"But that's not a real setting," Rodney protested, "just something you bots all agree to."

"You have many other options for communication." Murderbot was now standing in front of their desk. "Madison prefers text messaging before being interrupted in person anyway."

"I don't have time for that. I've already wasted too much time tracking them down." Rodney pounded on the door again, but his hand was getting sore.

"Perhaps next time you should start with a text message. For now, this is my room, and I am asking you to leave." Nothing about Murderbot's voice or body language was threatening.

Arguing with Murderbot wasn't satisfying in the way that arguing with most humans was. Rodney realized he might need to think about that later. For the time being he stalked back to his room and sent Madison a message. "I need to talk to you about some incident. I came home from work and will waste my time waiting here until you come out and talk to me like a grown up."

In truth, Rodney could do most of his work from home, other than berating minions. At the moment, he was too upset to settle on anything.

#

Rodney was pacing in the living room when Madison came out to talk. Murderbot stayed at their desk, but Madison made a point of leaving the door open. Rather than worrying about Murderbot overhearing, it was somewhat reassuring to have the bot at their back.

"Hi, Uncle Rodney. Sorry someone bothered you about this. If I hadn't startled and dropped a fork, we probably could have kept the whole incident private." Madison wanted to curl up on the sofa or in their beanbag, but not if Rodney was going to stay standing.

Continuing to pace and jab his hands for emphasis, Rodney nearly shouted, "I think there's more to this than whatever caused you to drop a fork. Why didn't you come tell me if people were harassing you?"

"Kusanagi told me to come to her with this stuff." Madison stepped back toward Murderbot's door to press up against the cool wall. "She's been messaging for an hour, so I was working up the energy to deal with that."

"Why would you go to Kusanagi with this rather than me? Don't I deserve to at least be told?"

Madison didn't think anyone deserved to be told. The problem was too many people saw and started gossiping. "I expressed concern to Kusanagi once about someone who'd said some mean things about bots and about Hanso coming to my room back in the central tower. That was when Kusanagi told me to come to her if there were issues, and she is both my advisor and my boss. Not that I'm really sure if this counts as harassment."

"They're slandering your status at Caltech and saying I pulled strings to bring you here, which slanders me as well. Someone even wrote it on a virtual wall, which may count as libel." Rodney was closing in on Madison as he spoke louder and louder. "That's way beyond harassment!"

Madison opened their mouth and no words came. That was part of why they'd retreated to their room after lunch. They had more than used up their ability to talk to people for the day. Now there was yelling, and their uncle was upset about something Madison didn't even know about. Something worse than they'd feared when they found out their uncle was in charge of all the scientists where they'd be working.

"I can't—" Madison practically squeaked out the words before they swallowed and managed, "I can't do this right now."

"You can't opt out of a conversation whenever you feel overwhelmed!" Rodney shouted, clenching his fists in frustration.

Madison started to tap rapidly on the wall.

Suddenly Murderbot was in the doorway next to Madison and asked, "Why not?"

"No one will take them seriously in academia or any line of work if they can't stick up for themselves in an argument," Rodney insisted as Murderbot's eyes zoomed in for no practical reason.

Madison felt like their stomach had turned to stone and was pulling them down. They'd worried far more over the years about their differences getting in the way of their work than about anything to do with their failure in flirting situations. Now that was all piled on top of accusations about the BotKin and some unknown problem with Caltech. It felt like their lungs were turning to stone, too.

But Murderbot was speaking at a controlled speed and volume, "This is not an academic or work context. You are part of Madison's family more than part of their work, and they already told you they were preparing to speak with their advisor. Furthermore, what happened between Madison and the scientist named Julian was personal in nature. I don't think they even know what you're talking about that involves you and Caltech." Then Murderbot turned to Madison and said, "If you need more time alone, I suspect Kusanagi would be willing to text chat or wait until tomorrow."

Madison looked to their uncle for a moment, wanting to leave, but not wanting to have to go through all this again.

"I really need to know what's going on," Rodney sounded like he was trying hard not to shout, "but I know I'm hard to deal with."

When Madison managed to swallow and not flee, Murderbot said, " I think you're both more comfortable when you have as much information as possible. If you both want that, I could share what Madison told me about the incident at lunch and Rodney could explain whatever he came to talk about. Madison could listen from their beanbag or their own room without having to speak unless they want to."

Madison managed to nod.

Rodney looked a bit overwhelmed himself but said, "Okay."

Murderbot went into their room and resumed their triangular seated position, but facing outward from their desk. Madison curled up in their beanbag and pulled their fuzzy blanket up to cover all but their eyes.

#

Rodney saw R2-D2 and Data up on the CatBot shelf and said, "If you're staying, this has to remain confidential, at least from any BioKin."

Data said, "yes" and R2-D2 gave an affirmative burble, so Rodney settled down in the corner with the most cushions and listened while Murderbot shared word for word what Madison had told them about something that had apparently been dubbed "the lunch incident."

Then Rodney said, "I'm in the odd position of having been on both sides of conversations like that, except I don't think I was ever quite as creepy as Julian. And I never insinuated others had inappropriate relations with bots, although it was said about me more than once, because people are idiots. Julian is an idiot, and I'll find a way to make his life miserable." When Madison suddenly shifted under their blanket he added quickly, "That can't be traced back to me. You'll see why even more when I tell you what I found."

Then Rodney told them both everything he knew or had surmised from the graffiti grotto. It probably wasn't the best time for Madison to hear it, but it certainly wasn't the worst. They seemed to have calmed down a lot with their fuzzy blanket and beanbag, and Rodney was wondering if he could get one of each for himself.

Then Madison spoke up for the first time to ask, "Do you think someone is deliberately starting rumors against me?"

"The better you do, the more people will spread rumors about you." It was the nicest thing he could think of to say given the situation

"I'm not that good," Madison said. And when Rodney opened his mouth to protest they added, "Seriously, I know I'm smart and know some important people, but not at all what you're used to."

Murderbot followed up immediately saying, "I could collect data from other BotKin and see if there is a noticeable spike in false information involving Madison at any particular time or in any identifiable group."

"What about all your privacy rules, like why you wouldn't let me through the bot lift?" Rodney asked.

"I don't intend to violate any rules in what I tell you." Murderbot looked up to the CatBot shelf and then said, "If you want us to collect data and do this analysis among BotKin, you'll have to accept whatever parts we can tell you at the end."

Madison let out a sigh that sounded like relief and poked the rest of their face up above the blanket. "I would be more than happy to hand that off to you. In the meantime, I think I'd better go talk with Kusanagi."

That surprised Rodney and made him wonder if Madison was more comfortable with Kusanagi than with him. He knew he irritated a lot of people, but he'd been doing pretty well with Madison's pronouns and appreciating their cooking efforts, and Kusanagi wasn't generally considered Miss Congeniality. Then he realized this mostly wasn't about him, and Murderbot had clearly pointed out the distinction between family and work.

Making a considerable and certain to be unappreciated effort to be a better person and uncle, Rodney said, "I guess I should get back to work, too."

#

Carson arrived home to find John and Ronon grilling meat and mushrooms on a balcony that hadn't been there before. "Did the grill come with the balcony?"

"Nah, I traded a spare five iron for it," John said. "Not like I spend much time golfing anymore."

"Hey, I agreed to go to a beach and watch you surf," Rodney was arguing even before he made it through the doorway from their room. "Is dinner ready yet?"

John said, "Sure, call Madison."

"Madison!" Rodney shouted as he passed the open doorway where Murderbot sat working.

Hanso came rushing out of the kitchen carrying a large bowl of potato salad and stopped to pull Carson's usual chair out for him. "Why thank you, Hanso."

Then Ronon set a good sized serving of steak in front of Carson and one at least twice as large at his own place. "Collavo juice?" Ronon asked, holding up a pitcher.

"Yes, please," Carson said. "I feel quite spoiled all of a sudden."

"Must have been doing something wrong before," Ronon said with a wink. Then he offered some juice to Madison who'd just sat down.

"None for me," Rodney said preemptively. "I brought my own coffee." Then Rodney turned to Madison and asked, "How'd your talk with Kusanagi go?"

"Terrible, fine, whatever." Madison pinked up at the question, and Murderbot strode out quickly and sat beside them. That wasn't unusual at dinner, but Rodney was looking at both of them as if there was more to the story.

"Are we good?" Rodney asked quietly.

Even John, who was the last to sit down, with his own steak and two large grilled mushrooms for Madison, looked surprised at Rodney's cautious question and tone.

"Yeah, it's all fine," Madison said. "Can we just act normal now?" With that Madison shoved a large bite of mushroom into their mouth and the conversation stayed as close to normal as they could manage for the rest of the meal.

#

Rodney had kept his radio on and his toy inside him since dinner, just as John had asked. He'd intended to stay in his office working on his latest project, but someone knocked at the door. Rodney answered to find Hanso with one spindly limb extended to knock again.

"Hello, Hanso."

"Hello, Dr. McKay. We thought you might like to join us for cookies."

The sweet and spicy smell coming from the kitchen area was enough to draw Rodney out without asking any further questions. He saw Ronon washing dishes as Carson set out cooling racks. "Is Madison not around?"

"They had some meeting to attend, but we promised to save some cookies," Carson answered.

"What kind are you making?" Rodney asked, enjoying a deep sniff that made his mouth water.

Ronon snorted. It might have been a laugh.

"I started with a recipe for molasses ginger cookies, but I've been told"—Carson shot a mock fierce glare in Ronon's direction—"that we shouldn't call them that, since they don't actually contain molasses or ginger."

Rodney sat on the tallest of their newly acquired chairs, only remembering the toy inside him when it shifted in a provocative way. He wondered how much longer whatever Lorne had needed John for would take.

"Mocha with your cookies?" Ronon asked.

"Seriously, yes." Rodney raised grasping fingers expectantly. "My two favorite things combined to go with homemade cookies. Are you to up to something?"

"Thought John was one of your two favorite things," Ronon said.

Carson swatted him very lightly on the ass, but for the two of them, that was practically public sex. That reminded Rodney of the vibrating heating pad he'd made at Ronon's request, and he was trying to think of a good innuendo to drop about it, when Carson made him change gears entirely.

"It seems like you and Madison must have talked sometime before dinner. You certainly don't have to tell me what it was about, but I was pleased to see you two bonding a bit."

"Bonding!" Rodney almost choked on his first sip of hot but delicious mocha. "No, we started out upset about totally different things and Murderbot had to calm us both down and sort out what each of us thought was going on. It was a mess."

Ronon and Carson both sat down across from Rodney at the breakfast bar with their own mochas. Ronon asked as if it were nothing, "You understand each other better now?"

When Rodney gave the obvious, "Yes," Ronon only snorted.

"Sounds like bonding to me," Carson said. "I've been delighted to see Madison opening up a bit as we all get to know each other, but I worried you might feel displaced if you weren't involved all the time."

"Not like I know anything about raising kids or grad students. Whatever." Rodney sipped his mocha and realized he was glad Madison was growing closer to Carson, even if he'd been jealous of Kusanagi only a few hours earlier. Carson was different. He'd helped Rodney through a lot of things that Rodney would never know how to help Madison with.

Carson spoke soothingly. "I talked with Madison about what they call 'chosen family' and a Satedan concept of 'forever family.' I don't pretend to speak for either definition, but I've found my connection to you made both John and Madison seem more familial to me from the moment we all moved here together."

The toy inside Rodney sprung to life mid-sentence, and Rodney just nodded along with whatever Carson was saying. He'd promised to radio John as soon as he felt anything, so they'd both have some idea of the range for activation. "Hold that thought. I realized I should radio John. How much longer until the cookies are ready?"

"They should be out of the oven in three to five minutes, but—"

Rodney tapped his radio and said, "Sheppard, what's your ETA?"

"Maybe five minutes. I'm halfway out on the East Pier but making my way home now."

That was roughly half a kilometer away, much farther than Rodney had expected the range on their toys could be. He'd wondered if they'd work between John's office and Rodney's lab, but this suggested they could easily reach from anywhere in the central tower all the way to this apartment. The vibration inside Rodney amped up for a two second burst, reminding Rodney to reply. "Carson is making cookies that should be ready in three to five, if you want any."

"I'm fine either way. Feel free to enjoy cookies without me. Sheppard out." There was another burst of stronger vibration just as John signed out. Rodney could feel himself firming up, but he'd been careful to tuck his cock upright in his snuggest nylon briefs. That should keep him relatively contained and comfortable so long as John wasn't trying to embarrass him. The thought of John hitting Rodney with hard vibrations and constantly shifting pressure while he was trying to talk or even eat cookies was a little worrisome. It also made Rodney that much harder. He really needed to stop imagining scenarios if he wanted to stay decent enough to get cookies.

The toy started to shift, not as hard as it could, but in a regular rhythm. Rodney was as distracted by wondering how John chose the pace as by the feeling inside him. Then the word "pace" stuck in his brain, and Rodney realized John was signaling each step he took closer to Rodney.

"Are you all right, lad?" Carson asked, some real concern creeping into his voice. Rodney wondered if he was a bit too caught up in his game to be in polite company. Then again, that was part of the game. At least his toy was really quiet and people's expectations of his social skills were really low.

"I'm fine. Just had an idea, but it can wait until after cookies. How much longer it that?"

#

Carson was starting to wonder if Rodney was coming down with something. His face was suddenly flushed and his eyes were blinking more.

"I'll check," Ronon said. A minute later he was serving a plate of cookies that were almost too hot to touch.

That didn't stop Rodney from grabbing one, blowing to cool it even as it folded around his fingers. The way he waved his hand back and forth looked like he was urging a bug to fly away, but soon enough he was nibbling the fresh cookie off his fingertips and making the ridiculous sorts of groans he usually reserved for chocolate. "Delicious," Rodney said with great appreciation as John walked in the door.

Carson hadn't yet tried any of the hot cookies when John smiled wide and said, "I see they lured you out with cookies, and is that mocha I smell? You must be in heaven."

Rodney nodded, taking another cookie as he said, "You should try some."

With the briefest flick of his eyes toward Ronon, John said, "Maybe I'll try a bite of yours in our room. Goodnight, all."

John's voice was almost a drawl as he said the last and casually wrapped an arm around Rodney to guide him quickly to their room. Rodney leaned into John looking ridiculously happy.

Once their door was sealed shut, Carson said to Ronon, "I don't want to know what else was going on there, do I?"

"Remember he's the one who offered a sex toy when I asked for a heating pad," Ronon said with a chuckle.

"That's definitely as much as I want to know," Carson said with a smile he couldn't quite stop. "Did the next batch of cookies go in?"

#

When they were finally back in their room, Rodney breathed a sigh of relief. "I swear I was losing brain cells by the second."

"Really, I couldn't tell." John smirked, "Now let me try these delicious cookies." John leaned forward and practically sucked half the cookie off Rodney's fingers. He didn't even have to up the vibration of the toy, Rodney was practically panting by the times he finished. "Oh, that is good."

Then Rodney pushed both his finger and Rodney's with the remaining half cookie into Rodney's mouth. Rodney sucked automatically and somehow swallowed the rest of the cookie down without choking. But it was a near thing as John pushed both their fingers in and out of Rodney's mouth and matched the rhythm by shifting the toy around.

When John pulled their fingers out, he stretched back and shifted his neck side to side. In his current state, Rodney found the arch of neck and the shirt stretched tight over flexed muscles even more tantalizing than usual. He stepped forward to touch, and John held him back with one flat palm on his chest. "Wait, I have an idea."

Before Rodney could argue, John surged the vibration up high and rapidly expanded the toy. Rodney leaned into John's hand and John twitched a pinky at his nipple. Rodney knew other sounds would escape if he tried to talk, so he kept quiet.

"First, it's my turn to offer a gift. I can't claim to have made it myself, but I thought you might find a cock ring convenient for what I have in mind."

When Rodney didn't answer, John dialed the toy to its lowest settings and asked, "Yes or no?"

"I've never used one before." Of course Rodney had fantasies that involved a cock ring, generally involving orgies or fuck or die scenarios, but he wasn't sure how he'd like it in real life. John remained silent, only one hand touching Rodney. As his body calmed and he missed the feeling of being almost too turned on for his own good, the answer became clear. "I'm willing to try it."

"Good, because I was thinking the whole walk back about what I wanted to try tonight. You willing to let me run the show?"

Rodney nodded.

"Say it," John prompted, and Rodney didn't think he should find that as arousing as he did, but he'd already accepted that he did sometimes. He especially liked the idea that John had spent time thinking up plans for him, that he mattered that much to John.

"Yes, sir," Rodney said, with only the slightest hint of sass.

"You don't have to say sir."

"But do you like it?" Rodney asked, looking up through his eyelashes.

John appeared to consider the question as he made a show of looking up and down Rodney's body. The vibrations inside Rodney started to ramp up, as if powered by the heat of his lover's gaze.

"I'd rather you call me John and do everything I say for tonight. Now strip."

Rodney didn't think he could pull off a sexy striptease, especially with the toy inside distracting him. But he did his best to slide his shirt smoothly over his abs, chest, shoulders and head. The way John was staring at his bare skin afterward suggested he did it well enough.

When he unfastened his pants and pulled them down to his thighs, John abruptly said, "Stop."

Rodney froze in place, wondering if he'd done something wrong.

The heat of John's gaze on Rodney's cock, which was just peeking out from the top of his smooth black nylon briefs, was almost tangible. "Pull those down too," John said, "Just as far as your pants are."

Rodney did as he was told, a little self-conscious as he stood half clothed in front of John who was still in full uniform. Then John pulled a small piece of dark leather from his jacket pocket and stepped forward to lift Rodney's balls almost delicately. They were standing so close that it was hard to see with John's hands in the way, but Rodney could fell the leather looping behind his balls and around his cock, snug even though Rodney wasn't quite as erect as he knew he would get if John touched him much more.

Stepping back to appreciate his own handiwork, John said, "Very good."

Rodney felt his muscles tighten around the toy inside him at the praise, whether it was aimed at him or the cock ring John had brought back as a gift. Who it was a gift for remained to be seen, but right now Rodney was basking in the way John seemed to value him, with gifts, looks, and touches.

The toy inside Rodney surged to what must be its largest, most lumpy configuration all at once, bouncing around seemingly at random. Rodney almost fell over, and blood rushed to his cock, making him painfully hard for a moment.

"Finish taking off your pants," John said. "And no sitting down to deal with the shoes."

Rodney couldn't quite swallow his whimper at those instructions. He pushed his pants and briefs down a little lower. When he squatted further to try to untie his shoes, the toy felt enormous inside him. When he leaned farther forward instead, it rubbed right up against his prostate, almost making him pitch forward. Taking a deep breath, Rodney settled somewhere in between the two positions and glanced up to see John smirking. But when John only raised an eyebrow and slouched back against their dresser, Rodney carried on with removing his shoes and finally his pants and briefs.

When he stood again, it was almost a relief. The toy was still unrelenting inside him, but it was already at maximum size, Rodney was sure, and there was more room for it to move around with Rodney upright.

"Good, now it's my turn to watch you exercise," John said.

For a moment, Rodney seriously considered safewording. He could shut off the toy and end the scene. John would forgive him. Rodney was almost certain.

But he didn't really hate John's instruction. It didn't seem fun or sexy at the moment, but his cock was still hard, and he really liked the idea that John had thought about what he wanted as he was walking back home. Given the cock ring he'd acquired somehow, John had probably put a lot more thought into this than he was admitting. So Rodney asked, "What sort of exercises would you like me to do?"

"Let's start with ten jumping jacks."

Rodney glared at John.

John only smiled back.

Rodney managed one halfhearted jumping jack, feeling ridiculous, and also feeling the toy brush up past his prostate in a very unsettling way.

Then John interrupted with, "Count out loud."

Glad that he wasn't expected to say "Yes, sir" like some incredibly unfit Marine, Rodney managed, "One, two, three, four, five, six," by seven his erection hurt from all the bouncing, though he was flooded with endorphins from whatever the toy was doing inside him. He was pretty sure John had changed something, but it was too hard to keep track with everything else he was feeling. Rodney's feet barely left the floor as he forced himself through, "eight, nine, ten."

"Very good," John said much too calmly. "Now sit ups."

"I don't—" Rodney started to argue.

"Trust me, you can."

The words "trust me" carried a special significance in their relationship, tracing all the way back to Doranda. Rodney carefully lowered himself to the floor and realized the toy was no longer at full size or bouncing around. It was still vibrating, hard enough as far as Rodney was concerned. But it was bearable as Rodney put his hands between his knees and did his best to curl forward to his knees. His feet came off the floor a bit as he breathed out, "One." Then John was kneeling in front of him, bare hands holding Rodney's feet to the floor as if this were any other training session. Rodney met his eyes and saw they were all pupil. This was seriously turning John on. That made it easier for Rodney to struggle through nine more sit ups. If the vibrations inside him felt better each time he eased down, Rodney wasn't sure if that was the toy or his own appreciation ramping up.

When he lay back down after the final sit up, John said, "Relax, I'm going to help you stretch." Then John leaned forward pressing one of Rodney's knees to his chest. The position compressed the space inside Rodney around the toy, which he was getting used to. It pressed John's uniform jacket against the bare skin of Rodney's calf, which was oddly arousing.

Then John traced a finger from the base of the toy up to Rodney's perineum and then out to the tip of his cock. Rodney whined, wanting John to pump him or suck him and knowing that wasn't going to happen, at least not right now. The same finger slid back to trace along the leather of the cock ring, or whatever it should be called when it was clearly more than one ring. The reminder of that tiny bit of bondage and that John controlled more than the toy inside him made Rodney shiver, but then he relaxed even more.

John eased away and then repeated the stretch on Rodney's other leg. He repeated the very light fondling as well.

After that, John held one hand on Rodney's left shoulder as he pressed Rodney's left knee across to the far side of Rodney's right hip. The toy inside began a rolling motion that seemed to involve increasing and decreasing vibration as well. Rodney was too far gone to track exactly what was happening, but he thought he might learn to like exercising if they did it this way often enough. John went on to repeat that move with Rodney's other leg and then pull each leg straight up, almost to Rodney's chest.

When he finally positioned both of Rodney's feet above his head with Rodney's back more curved and relaxed than he'd thought possible, John started to trace along Rodney's crack with one finger, jostling the base for the toy a little each time. Then multiple fingertips were tracing across Rodney's sweaty backside and John said, "Your ass looks great in any position." He gave Rodney a light swat, which didn't hurt at all but jostled the base of the plug a fair bit. "Let's take a shower."

Rodney let John help him to his feet and guide him to the shower. "Undress me," John said.

It seemed easy now. Rodney slid the zipper down John's jacket, trailing the fingers of his other hand just behind, as he had so many times before. He slid the jacket over John's shoulder, down his strong arms, and over his long fingers. Tossing that aside, he slid John's shirt up, pressing in close, able to feel John's erection through his pants, giving a quick kitten lick to one nipple as it was uncovered. The toy inside Rodney pulsed at that. So Rodney licked the other nipple as he finished removing John's shirt. Then he knelt to take care of John's shoes, not even minding how the toy made Rodney moan and pant as John ramped up the vibrations while Rodney was folded down tight around it.

Once the shoes and socks were off, Rodney stayed on his knees as he unfastened John's pants and pulled down both pants and briefs in one smooth motion.

"Suck me, Rodney," John said as soon as he was naked.

"Yes, John," Rodney responded, his half-lidded eyes already fixed on John's erection. He took John deep, swallowing greedily as the vibrations inside him pulsed in some new rhythm. Maybe it matched John's heartbeat. It grew faster as Rodney focused on the crown, traced his tongue down the vein, and then focused on the slit before sucking deep again.

"Enough. Stand up and get in the shower."

Rodney went without thinking, letting warm water pour down on him. Then John handed him a tube of shower gel and said, "I want you to wash us both, but don't worry about our hair or faces."

With John facing him, it seemed only natural to begin by working up a lather on John's chest. When he circled John's nipples, there was a strong vibrating pulse that seemed to indicate approval, but focusing more on that area didn't lead to more pulses. Rodney pressed up against John, covering his own front in suds as he washed John's back, and there was a long enough increase in vibration to make Rodney weak in the knees. So he sank to the floor as he carefully washed John's legs and groin, receiving incentives from the toy inside him as he cleaned and massaged each area.

Then John turned around and said, "Get me clean enough to eat."

Rodney wanted to stick his tongue up John's ass right then, even though he'd never done this before. But he'd read enough to know what he'd want, and somewhere in the back of his brain, he was glad John wanted to be cleaned up first. So Rodney did his best with the cleaning as John obligingly spread his legs wide. Then setting the shower gel aside, Rodney took a long lick up the cleft of John's ass.

John shivered and the toy inside Rodney went wild for a moment, bouncing around fast and hard, making Rodney pant and want to bite John's ass. But he hadn't been told to bite. The toy settled back into a random but less overwhelming series of unpredictable movements and vibrations. Rodney used his tongue to explore John's hole almost randomly. He didn't need the toy to reward him when he did something good. The muscle around John's hole would flutter and John would gasp.

As John leaned farther forward against the shower wall, Rodney used his hands to cup John's ass and spread his cheeks farther apart. Making his tongue pointy, Rodney circled until the muscle let him poke inside. Then it was just a matter of leaning forward, letting his tongue sink slightly deeper, wiggle, and repeat.

Now John was keening, and Rodney licked into him, twisting and flexing his tongue as his hands kneaded John's ass. Even after his tongue and knees grew sore, Rodney kept pushing deeper and making John's hole looser and sloppier, because John made the most amazing sounds.

"Fuck me, Rodney. Right here, right now."

"Yes, John."

Getting to his feet was harder than Rodney had expected, his sore knees and the constantly shifting toy inside him didn't help. John stayed leaning against the wall, back arched and ass out.

Rodney reached for the lube they kept in their shower, and when he stroked his own cock with it, he thought he'd pass out. If he'd ever been this hard in his life, Rodney couldn't remember it. And he would have remembered. But he hadn't even noticed until he tried to prepare himself to give John what he wanted.

Now Rodney leaned his head forward between John's shoulder blades and quickly worked some lube into John's hole. "God, yes," John muttered.

Then Rodney was easing his cock into John's very eager hole. It twitched and practically pulled him in, and it was all Rodney could do not to pound in fast and hard. But the toy in Rodney's ass started to shift around in a slow rhythm, so Rodney figured that was the pace John wanted him to go. John was effectively using the toy Rodney had made as a remote control to guide Rodney, and the scientist didn't mind at all. The strong vibrations that continued along with the metronome-like movements combined with John's slick insides practically rippling around him, made Rodney wonder how he was staying upright. But the cock ring kept him from coming, and he leaned against John who leaned against the wall. If this was what John wanted, then Rodney would keep pumping with every pulse inside him.

Time seemed to stretch. Rodney sometimes felt like he was coming even though he knew he wasn't.

John panted, "Keep going, just like that."

Rodney said, "Yes, John," without even making the choice to speak.

If the pace gradually increased, Rodney was too caught up in each moment to realize. He did notice when John tightened rhythmically around Rodney's cock. Reaching a hand around he brushed briefly against John's cock. A sudden very strong pulse inside him told Rodney he should definitely wrap his hand around and stroke. A quick set of pulses had him pulling fast and hard as John came and then slowing to long slow drags. John used the toy to control the pace until the end.

There was a long pause with Rodney still buried deep inside as John finished shaking and panting. Then in a flash Rodney found himself pushed up against the far wall of the shower. John tugged at something behind Rodney's balls and it almost hurt as the bindings came off. Then the toy inside Rodney was huge and vibrating hard against his sweet spot and everything else. John's hand was sure and quick on Rodney's incredibly desperate cock as John said, "Come now."

Rodney came and came and felt John bracing him against the wall as he pulled every last drop out and left Rodney fizzing all over as if the droplets from the shower were evaporating on contact. He wasn't sure if he was staring at John or just imagining his lover's face in front of him. He wasn't sure of much until the toy inside him was stopped and small and John pulled it from his ass, then caught Rodney as he almost slid to the ground.

"We're both getting to the bed before you quit on me." John pulled back so that water splashed across Rodney's front. Then John held him out away from the wall as warm air blew all around, drying them off. Every moment felt amazing as John led Rodney by the hand and they both collapsed together into their bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Lassie waggled her ears as Madison entered the robot meeting room, while R2-D2 burbled and ran away. Murderbot sat at their desk, as if they hadn't moved since the night before. While Madison had needed to leave by 8 PM, Murderbot had stayed after their meeting so other bots could share whatever they had overheard people saying about Madison. That allowed Murderbot to collate all the data and search for patterns.

Madison was somewhat dreading the answers and hadn't slept well. While Murderbot was busy typing their latest file, Madison sat down at their desk and started checking messages and results from running various models.

The lab door opened within minutes to admit Hanso and H511.

"Hi there," Madison said. "What's up?

"We're here to provide moral support," Hanso said as they rolled to the open side of Madison's desk. H511 took a similar positions beside Murderbot.

R2-D2 hurried back in through a floor vent, but instead of climbing to sit beside Lassie on the CatBot shelf, the little bot rolled over to Madison's feet and asked, "Do you want to hold me while Murderbot reports their findings?"

The questions was a little alarming in itself, but Madison lifted R2-D2 to their lap saying, "Sure."

Then Lassie twitched her ears and asked, "Me, too?"

So Madison ended up holding two of their favorite CatBots as Murderbot finished typing and said, "I have an intermediate report ready, but I will prepare an updated version by tomorrow morning when five more BotKin will have shared data with me and several others will have brought me updates on current persons of interest."

"Persons of interest?" Madison asked.

"I'd prefer not to tell you who any of the persons of interest are," Murderbot said. Then they shrugged, probably knowing that Madison found the gesture reassuring and aesthetically appealing. "The three most relevant to you I am certain you already suspect, and only one of them has given blanket permission to share trainings."

Madison guessed the three were Sonia, Lauren, and Julian. While Madison hadn't expected any sort of a report this morning, they hadn't been able to stop thinking about one or more of those people intentionally starting hurtful rumors. "Go ahead," Madison said, "I'm ready to hear whatever you have to tell me."

Lassie clutched Madison's knee with tiny legs and ran her fan possessively while waggling her ears. It was kind of ridiculous, but kind of cute. It did make Madison feel better, although R2-D2 sitting still and solid on their other knee and Hanso and D511 to the sides were all reassuring in their own ways. Madison patted each of the CatBots.

They all waited silently as Murderbot said, "Madison's name has been mentioned most often in anti-bot comments followed by anti-Rodney McKay comments. There were small increase in gossip focused solely on Madison after each of three incidents. So far, there is significant evidence after only one incident that the other party specifically instigated negative and false information distribution. A few BotKin have volunteered to train with or near persons of interest today, to track anti-Madison and anti-bot information and disinformation."

"Is that all?" Madison asked. "That doesn't sound as bad as I feared."

"That is an honest and complete summary of my findings so far," Murderbot said. "But there are some details and trends you might find worrying. My projections are weak, but I predict you will ask to hear them if given the chance."

Madison ducked her head, "I'd rather know more if you can tell me without violating anyone's confidentiality."

"The number of negative comments about you that I find to be verifiably false has more than doubled this week over the precious two. Prior to that fewer people referred to you by name, so there is some ambiguity in my statistics."

Madison took three deep breaths, petted the CatBots, and felt mostly okay. But they couldn't help asking, "Can you tell me more about the verifiably false comments?"

Murderbot nodded slowly. "They fall into two broad categories and are responsible for most of this week's increase. The first is about you being in trouble at Caltech or otherwise coming to Atlantis because Rodney McKay did something unethical on your behalf. The second involves you doing something perceived as unethical with bots. At least half of those imply or specify some sort of sexual relationship between you or me." Murderbot held up a finger in a very human gesture that Madison had not seen them use before. "For the record, I am not conceding that such a relationship would be unethical, except in that neither you nor I have consented to such interactions." They held up a second finger, "There have also been some comments suggesting that you will change your gender or sexuality if provided with particular experiences, and I am including those as false based on a preponderance of psychological and scientific research. Most co-occur with other provably false statements, mostly about you and me, which also undermine the credibility of the speakers' predictive models."

Madison only realized their nose and face had scrunched up at the last because they felt how it wrinkled their skin. They tried to relax as they realized Lassie was petting their knee with tiny metal legs and R2-D2 was producing an extended burble that might count as humming or singing.

Hanso angled their face into Madison's line of sight and blinked two lights. "If you would rather talk to humans than hold office hours here today, everyone would understand."

"After that? I'd much rather stay here with any of you." Madison shivered at the thought of leaving and dealing with humans.

"You should know the others who live on our floor, as well as most of your other friends, have never said or put up with others saying those things," Murderbot said. "They might help you in ways we can't, and Kusanagi would probably have ideas, official or unofficial, if you want to share this with her."

"Maybe tomorrow, when you have the updated version, we can decide what to tell Kusanagi or any of the others." Madison thought they were being practical and not cowardly to put off that decision for one day. After a long pause, Madison thought to ask, "Of the comments against Rodney, what percent involve me? Has my being here changed how people see him much?"

"About twenty percent involve you right now, but he's well within the normal range for false and negative information dispersal about him."

"Well, that's reassuring," Madison said it sarcastically but wasn't sure the others took it that way. "How about you Murderbot? I didn't mean for you to end up sorting through piles of mean gossip directed at you, too." As they said it, they realized H511 might have chosen their position partly to support Murderbot, or at least to make them feel more included in a circle rather than presenting to a crowd.

"I had some negative feelings over the course of last night," Murderbot said. "For the last few hours, I have felt significantly more negatively toward people who share mean and false data. By choosing to train with people I find interesting and relatively truthful, I find I have biased my models. I have now limited the subset of people I fit to those models, and I will develop more specific models for other subsets as I collect more data."

"That's a very nice way of saying you've become disillusioned. I think it will help me to consider it that way, too." Madison looked up at Murderbot and then all the friends who came to support them and just said, "Thanks."

#

When Carson arrived to visit Lansol the next morning, Cheshire was nestled in the crook of his arm. Lansol had softly been telling stories about lizard people and how as a child he feared them like the ghosts of unburied ancestors. It made Carson realize how little he knew of Lansol's past, or anyone's really. There was so much he never thought to ask. Maybe learning to ask and to listen could help him come into his own as an elder.

"Good resting, Healer Carson." Lansol smiled as he stroked Cheshire. "I believe time with your family has done you good."

"And I believe you've made a fast friendship with Cheshire. Greetings to you both," Carson said.

Cheshire waved antennae but nothing else.

Lansol said, "It seems I am a man of many uses. Beyond surviving with orvo parts for yet another day, the BotKin and Healer Biro seemed excited to hear my planet had experience with both the Bad Blood and with ruins left by lizard people. As the only person with a claim to still live on Tondo, I have been informed and given consent to sample and survey my home planet. Perhaps I will learn more of my own people by coming to know yours."

"I hope this isn't stirring up bad memories." Carson clasped the hand Lansol wasn't using to pet Cheshire before taking the conveniently accessible seat beside his bed.

"Sharing memories, good or bad, is something I gladly give along with my permission. Healer Biro took some of my blood for her research into the new virus on Lo Seco as well as Hanso's into the Bad Blood." Lansol winked, and Carson wasn't sure what it meant to him and his culture, but Carson smiled back, happy to see the young man cheerful and well, at least for the moment. "It seems a common disease of childhood on Tondo resembles how children respond to the current outbreak on Lo Seco. I have inadvertently started a frenzy of speculations on lizard people, Bad Blood, and their connections to the latest epidemic. Now Biro is studying not only my past immunity from blood taken before but what may happen now with the anti-rejection treatment based on your unique immune system."

Carson's head whirled with the implications, and he was glad to let Biro take the lead on this one. If what they'd thought was a novel coxsackievirus had previously been endemic on Lansol's home planet and mostly been seen as a childhood illness, it might convey lifelong immunity. Most people would get it as children, and the younger patients seemed to be doing better on Lo Seco from what Taran reported from the first household visited and her subsequent contact with the local healers. It would be a long shot for Biro to test for antibodies in Lansol and hope they might lead to a vaccine or treatment, but if they did it would come a lot faster. "How do the lizard people fit into all this?" Carson asked at last.

"That is not my puzzle to solve. I have been telling Cheshire all the tales I can remember from my youth, and other BotKin plan to share any tales they can collect from other cultures represented on Atlantis." Lansol petted Cheshire again, and the silent CatBot blinked their foremost light as if to signal a smile. "It is good to know some of my memories and my people's stories will live on whatever happens to me."

"Don't talk that way," Carson chided. "You're doing very well so far."

"You see too much of yourself in me and need not add worries on my behalf to your own. We all die eventually, Healer Carson. I embrace this moment and this chance to talk to a young one who is likely to survive far longer than any child of our kind could."

Carson couldn't argue with that. He stayed and listened along with Cheshire to tales of lizard people as passed on to children through rhymes and legends.

When he finally had to leave to make it back for physical therapy on time, he was surprised to see one of the newest refugees sitting at the visiting window of the quarantine room. The person talking with him from the observation side was none other than Ronon. After finding so much comfort in Lansol's storytelling, Carson realized he hadn't listened to much from Ronon recently.

He'd known how his lover valued others wanting to listen, he'd even felt bad when Rodney was so obviously distracted as they tried to discuss their forever family with him the night before. Carson was suddenly overcome with the desire to curl up in the crook of Ronon's arm, as Cheshire had with Lansol, and listen to as many stories as Ronon was willing to tell. He even imagined Ronon stroking him as he listened, as Ronon had sworn to do as much as possible until one of them tired of the near constant touching. It gave Carson more to think about as he made his way back to the fifth floor of their tower.

#

Rodney wasn't in the meeting that decided his team needed to accompany Taran on the new mission. But when he asked (admittedly from the co-pilot seat when it was already too late), "Didn't you assign a new team to help Taran with this just yesterday?" John ignored him.

It was Taran who explained, "The new team of medics is still offering support on Lo Seco and bringing in advanced tech to help with extreme cases. It is hoped this will cast Atlantis and our future efforts in a positive light. However, the rift between prominent city elders and local healers has made my presence especially problematic."

"So their stupid politics and a bunch of lizard people stories got me stuck on this Jumper?" Rodney complained.

"I thought you liked flying in my Jumper," John said. He patted the console between them, but his tone and the placement of his hand conveyed the intended innuendo to Rodney.

Luckily, Taran was oblivious, and Ronon and Teyla ignored it if they noticed.

"Anyway, we're just doing fly overs on two planets rumored to have lizard people runes and similar diseases. With luck, we'll be home in time for lunch." John used his team leader voice, and Rodney missed the previous innuendo.

"If we're only doing fly overs, why did they send five of us along with biohazard suits and all the equipment we used to build a retaining wall?" Rodney was already setting up for scans and sampling on the first planet, Tondo, where Lansol's people used to live.

"Well," John stretched the word out longer than any one syllable deserved, "The second planet has people we should talk to, and if there's any signs of illness, we'll need to suit up. And they may have complained about trouble with a lizard people water system in the past."

#

Sure enough, the people on the second planet, Potain, immediately asked for help with a leaky dam.

"We will let you take all the samples you want—blood, water, soil, pipes—but please, the team tending the dam has had two members die this season." Potain's entire council of elders had come out to plead their case. They appeared to have four elders in a total population of about two hundred, based on life sign scans Rodney had done before they landed. The elder previously speaking continued, "The cracks grow too large to patch. There was heavy snowfall last winter and now it is melting fast."

"What are they using to patch the cracks?" Rodney asked.

After a moment of confusion, a younger woman fetched a jar of something that looked like sap. Rodney scanned it and asked, "Is that sap?"

"A mixture of sap and charcoal," the woman said proudly.

Teyla took over the conversation before Rodney could complain about barbarians or stone age technologies. "My people use something similar for waterproofing. We will take a look and see if any of us know a way to supplement the work your people are doing on the dam."

Then Taran offered to give immunizations against Bad Blood, which the locals knew by another name, to everyone present. At the same time, she collected their blood samples to test for coxsackievirus or any other common factors they might share with Lansol or the population on Lo Seco.

John was given a token from one of the elders to show the team at the dam that they bore official recognition from the council and came to help.

All the water samples the robots collected on the way to the dam showed traces of the coxsackievirus they were studying. From what Taran had gleaned, this population also saw it as a childhood illness that was rarely fatal. But nonetheless, their team had to don biohazard suits before approaching the damn, which made interacting with the team of locals awkward.

"We have a token from your elders who wanted us to help," John said for the third time, holding out the beaded neckpiece he'd been lent.

"How can we know what might be hidden in those suits?" Tsanow, the apparent foreman of the four-person team objected.

"What, you think we're lizard people?" Rodney asked.

The looks on the four young faces suggested they were willing to consider the possibility.

"Listen," Teyla said, with the voice of leadership that worked so well at city council meetings, "We came to help, but we need these suits to protect us from something in the water that does not harm you."

"Yeah, that doesn't make us sound like lizard people at all," Rodney muttered. Ronon grunted at the same time, probably not coincidentally.

"But we're not in danger?" Tsanow asked.

"You have grown up in this place and with this water. Has no one from another planet ever grown ill, perhaps with fever and trouble breathing, within days of coming here?" Teyla asked calmly.

Someone behind Tsanow started speaking but was quickly hushed.

"Look," John tried again, "I totally get being suspicious of strangers in funny clothes. But your elders said two people died trying to fix this dam already. We're not likely to prove more dangerous than that, and despite your water putting us at added risk, we're willing to risk our lives right beside you."

Rodney wanted to say, "I'm not," but he bit back the retort. The truth was, he'd been risking his life with this team, aside from Taran, for years. If they were determined to help the locals patch a dam, then Rodney was determined to keep them all safe while doing it.

A few minutes later, when they let him near enough the dam to see the cracks and the dozen places they'd already patched with their mixture of sap and charcoal, Rodney wondered if even a genius could solve this with the materials on hand. "Seriously, it might make more sense to take out the dam. What's downstream that you would miss?"

"Our homes?" the voice that was stifled before responded emotionally.

"This dam controls our largest waterway and feeds irrigation for all of our farms. Why else would we risk lives to patch it each year?" Tsanow seemed much younger when he was sassy.

"Fine, let's come up with a plan so no one dies over this anymore." Rodney used the scans he'd compiled so far to render an architectural drawing and then applied basic stress testing and failure analysis routines.

Tsanow planted his feet wide, standing at the very edge of the dam. "Your arrogance is unbelievable."

"You say that because you haven't seen my work. Now give me a minute," Rodney said.

John and Teyla did something to distract the locals while Ronon stood in front of Rodney looking menacing.

After nearly half an hour Rodney was already sweating in his suit when he announced, "Fine, we can fix it, but it's not going to be pretty."

The locals stared in disbelief as John and Teyla started pulling equipment from the Jumper in response to Rodney's demands. Ronon was still standing in guard position.

When Rodney threw over his shoulder to the locals, "Do you have a few large pieces of wood and something to secure it?" it was almost comical how all but Tsanow went to fetch what he asked for.

By midday, they had two wood and rope rigs that could hold the forcefield generators in place while the locals scrambled on top of the dam to pour the foam version of concrete previously used for the retaining wall on Lo Seco. Rodney's plans called for two cross brace reinforcement linked to the original dam's foundations. The foundations at least scanned as solid both above and below ground. They'd need to position the forcefields twice to create the bracing and the twice more to coat both sides of the dam with the foam-based material.

It took hours. The locals were filthy and sweaty, but at least they were wearing the local version of swimwear. Rodney's team couldn't take off their suits. They only had access to their suits' supplies of water that could be mixed into an energy drink via internal suit processors. If they didn't want to go back into quarantine, they had to maintain their suits' integrity until they passed through decontamination at the alpha site.

It was only as they were rigging up the forcefield for the last section of reinforcements that one of the locals got careless and fell head first off the dam. John and Rodney were at the base of the dam with Tsanow who'd been aligning the bottom corner to fill with foam-based concrete. They all saw the young person hit head first and flop as if unconscious.

John threw out his arms ready to dive in for a rescue, headless of his floppy yellow suit or the contaminated water. But Tsanow was faster, and just strong enough to push John back. As John stumbled to regain his footing, Tsanow splashed into the water. After a few strong strokes he dived under.

John and Rodney, and presumably their teammates and everyone at the top of the dam, studied the river. At least half a minute passed. The water was too rough to see what was happening underneath or to watch for bubbles from someone swimming.

Taran scrambled up beside John and Rodney and then started making her way downstream. When John followed, Rodney decided he might as well. It wasn't like he knew how to help with this. His forcefield couldn't sweep a river or scoop up a body.

That was when he remembered the primary purpose of the Life Signs Detector clipped to the waist of his biohazard suit. He quickly turned it on and pointed it down at the river.

John and Taran were quite a ways ahead of him when Rodney called out, "They're together. It looks like Tsanow is pulling them sideways there." He pointed to where he saw the two life signs and John grabbed a large branch to help pull them in as they surfaced.

Taran managed to manhandle the unconscious body until water was expelled and the person could breathe in some recovery position. Then she was saying, "John, can you take us back to town in the Jumper? This one needs a bed and a more thorough examination than I want to do here."

John looked at Rodney and then up to Ronon and Teyla who had somehow crept up behind him.

"Go, we can finish up here and keep everyone safe," Ronon said.

"Radio check ins every five minute," John said. Then to Rodney he added, "Promise you won't try anything extra or wander off without Ronon or Teyla."

It was almost impossible for Rodney not to snark at that, but still shaking with adrenaline and knowing John must be too, even if he hid it better, Rodney said, "Okay, just this once."

#

Luckily, Rodney was a genius, and the rest of his plan to reinforce the dam came together without a hitch. It was still a long and irritating day.

After two rounds of decontamination and the whole team debriefing, Cirillo insisted John. Rodney, and Taran stay for an extra meeting with him, Biro, Somchai, and the lead medic from Taran's team on LoSeco. Hanso attended as well, although Cirillo ignored the BotKin entirely.

After nearly an hour of going over scan results and hypotheses that any of the medical personnel could explain better than Rodney could and that John barely understood at all, Rodney had used up any modicum of remaining control. "I am done with this. I hope to never return to Potain or Lo Seco. I'll consult on engineering projects, but this medical stuff just makes me think the entire populations of these old lizard people planets should move someplace else. That is the simplest and most elegant solution. John and I have nothing more to contribute here. We both spent long sweaty hours building a dam under primitive conditions and almost ended up in quarantine again because some idiot fell off that dam. But we saved the idiot and the dam. We spent the five days before that trying to save a bunch of idiots on Lo Seco from their own water supply and their own stupidity in blaming us and then arguing with each other. We need some time off. Now."

To Rodney's immense surprise, Cirillo glanced around at the medical people and then said, "Okay, unless there's a true emergency, your team has tomorrow off. Take it as vacation."

Rodney didn't think he should feel grateful for what most people on Earth would think of as working a six-day week for a one-day weekend, but he wasn't going to argue. He left immediately, pulling John along with him. As soon as the doors shut behind them he said, "Remember that pink sand beach you wanted to visit? We're going there tomorrow."

#

Madison had managed to avoid the mess hall since the lunch incident the day before, but tonight they had a writing group meeting. Their writing group actually met in the small meeting room nearest the mess hall, where bots were allowed so long as everyone attending agreed. However, each writing group member was expected to bring their own tray of food from the mess hall to eat as they talked. If nothing else, it was time for Madison to prove they weren't afraid to go back into the mess hall.

They were still happy to have Murderbot walking with them as far as the small meeting room door. That happiness took a nosedive when they saw the first person they'd ever heard insult a bot standing right in front of the meeting room. He was a scientist with a usually greasy ponytail, although both his science uniform and his ponytail looked a little neater than usual today, as he shifted nervously from foot to foot.

When he saw Madison and Murderbot his eyes went almost comically wide. Madison tried not to look his way but couldn't ignore him as he said, "Excuse me, Madison Miller, I know you have no reason to listen to me, but there's something I think you should know."

Forcing their shoulders back and their eyes up to make the briefest polite eye contact, Madison said, "Okay, tell me."

"In private, just for a moment," he gestured to the thus far empty meeting room and Madison wondered if he'd hacked into their calendar to know they had writing group there in a few minutes. Or maybe he'd chosen the easiest place to pull someone aside on their way to the mess hall.

"Only if the door stays open," Madison insisted.

The guy glanced nervously at Murderbot but then nodded and went inside.

Murderbot crossed their arms and pointedly stood just outside the door as Madison walked in.

The guy had taken a position in the far corner, probably to avoid being overheard, but Madison was glad he wasn't trying to get between them and the exit. They leaned on the back of a chair across the table from where he was standing and said, "Okay, talk."

"Fine, I know you have reason to dislike me, and I can't claim to like you, but I'm a decent guy"—Madison refrained from rolling their eyes as he continued—"and well, I heard some guys betting on who could seduce you away from your robot lover with better sex—"

"It's not like that!" Madison protested.

"I don't care." His hands flew up, but it wasn't an aggressive gesture. He wasn't even trying to look Madison in the face as he blurted out, "I don't want to know what you do with it. I'm just saying some of these guys were talking pretty crass and as if they'd use force, which I don't even know if they meant, but you're young, and no one should get raped or even hassled that way. So I'm telling you to just watch out. That's all."

He was heading toward the door fast as Madison said, "Wait, who's threatening me?"

But he was gone as Murderbot said to Madison, "I thought it would be worse to get in his way, but I'll chase him down if you want."

Madison shook their head, and Murderbot came closer. "What can I do? Should we skip writing group?"

Breathing too fast as panic set in after the fact, Madison managed to say, "Just give me a minute."

They took deep breaths, and after a couple, Murderbot carefully placed a hand on their shoulder.

When Madison was able to release their hands from a white-knuckled grip on the chair in front of them, they said, "I can make it through writing group. I just need to get some food."

"I'll wait in the hall with you until we spot someone from the group going in for food."

Having that much of a plan helped Madison pull it together and move to the hall. There they waited with Murderbot until Penny and Kei walked by. "Can I join you?" Madison asked.

They both naturally agreed, greeting both Murderbot and Madison enthusiastically. The whole writing group agreed that keeping bots out of the mess hall and some other common areas, especially in the main tower, was ridiculous and prejudiced. But that was a conversation for another day. For now Madison collected comfort food, mac and cheese, carrots, and Greek salad. All the while they stayed close to Kei and Penny, who chatted about the food on offer and didn't mind if Madison stayed quiet.

They arrived at the meeting room as Murderbot was heading back from the other end of the hall. But before Madison could ask if anything else had happened, three more members of the group crowded in, and they fell into a teasing discussion about a parody piece Juan had written.

Madison had finally calmed enough to start eating their salad when Jake said conversationally, "I was a bit annoyed that the bully in your story used some of my speech patterns."

"What?" Madison asked, caught off guard.

"They said 'I mean' a lot, which I've been picked on for saying too much, and also 'I assume.'"

All Madison could do was shake their head in bewilderment. "Honestly, I hadn't noticed you using those phrases. Nothing about that character was based on you."

"Well, that's good," Jake sighed. "While we're talking about him, I didn't find his harassment of the POV character very realistic, and I know you couldn't get a restraining order for something like that in real life. I mean, maybe you should be able to, but half the frat boys at any real college would be under restraining orders if the law really worked that way."

First, Madison went stiff in their seat. Then both feet started tapping, and they let go of their fork to keep it from rattling against their plate. They'd thought they were ready to hear their writing group discuss the story they'd based around Josh stalking them in college, but they hadn't expected the conversation to start with challenging its realism.

"Okay, I think we need to take a step back here and talk about what constructive criticism means." That was Penny, who pretty much led the group in person while Kei handled more of the behind the scenes matters. Kei's eyebrows were currently plunged into a very concerned crinkle, and Madison almost wanted to comfort Kei. Except Madison wasn't sure they could move or even talk right now. They definitely couldn't turn to look at Murderbot or Jake, who sat on either side of them.

Penny looked around the table and said, "Who would like to volunteer a piece of advice they've found helpful in discussing other's writing?"

"Be considerate and phrase opinions as opinions," Juan volunteered.

Penny nodded approvingly.

Marita waved from the end of the table to get everyone's attention and then said, "Even if the specifics aren't relevant, we can learn from hearing different points of view."

That was why Madison made the effort to be in a writing group, despite the real life social interaction around writing being hard on the best of days. They managed to nod and breathe a bit better.

Kei sighed out what sounded like a very deep breath of their own. "If you can't think of constructive feedback, ask questions instead."

Madison smiled. Kei had referred to that as the "Thumper rabbit rule revised," and Madison couldn't hear it without picturing the animated bunny.

Then Jake added, "Don't take things personally or don't submit something if you aren't ready to hear negative feedback."

Madison managed to nod.

Murderbot asked, "Are we opening discussion on Madison's story now? Because I'd like to comment."

"Is that okay with you, Madison?" Penny asked.

Madison nodded again, and Penny looked doubtful but gave Murderbot the go ahead.

"I don't think I personally can comment on whether the harassment portrayed is realistic," Murderbot began, neutral voice tone hiding all the sass behind that statement, "but it was within the range of what I've seen portrayed in media and fic. I did research restraining orders in California, the state where the story was set, and found the law not only matched what was described in the story, but there have been similar cases on college campuses for which restraining orders were issued."

"Yeah," Marita agreed, "I went to college in Boston and know someone who got a restraining order against her ex-boyfriend for shit like that. Only difference was she'd actually dated the guy first."

"So it sound like the facts are plausible and at least some readers could identify or sympathize with the main character. Does anyone have comments on key elements like theme, plot, or tone?" Penny asked.

The discussion continued on an even keel. Jake kept his comments brief, possibly because Kei watched him with worried wrinkled eyebrows every time he spoke.

Madison didn't finish much more of their dinner, but otherwise they thought they got through the meeting well enough.

#

When Carson returned home that evening, after dialysis and a couple more visits with Lansol, he found Ronon had already made dinner. There were bite size cubes of meat, vegetables, and what Earthlings considered fruits, all seasoned and grilled. On Earth they might have been lined up on a skewer. In Pegasus, they were served in a shallow bowl with an implement like a fondue fork meant for stabbing and eating each piece.

"Want to eat on our balcony?" Ronon asked from the kitchen as he plated the food.

Carson smiled, "Sure. Is no one else home tonight?"

"Madison and Murderbot have dinner with their writing group. John called to say he and Rodney were delayed, but I left plenty of food for them." As Ronon spoke, he was ushering Carson out to the new balcony off their room where he'd already set a pitcher of something on a small table beside two of the heavy-duty lawn chairs.

"I see you've furnished the place," Carson joked.

"Okay?" Ronon set their food down beside the pitcher.

"More than. Thanks for taking care of that." Carson placed the walker he'd been using to one side, preparing to lower himself down.

Ronon stepped close behind him. The heat and feel of his body instantly warmed Carson, before he'd even noticed the chill breeze across the balcony. "Share a chair with me?"

They'd done so before while watching movies and sharing popcorn, but never to eat a regular meal. But they'd been separate all day, and Ronon was still pursuing his quest to touch Carson as much as possible when they were together. So Carson agreed, "We can try it."

The way Ronon lowered both of them into what amounted to a higher and sturdier than usual lawn chair showed off his easy grace and strength to at T. Carson settled back into his arms and said, "You're amazing."

"Wait 'til you try this amogda."

Carson could only assume amogda was the green vegetable Ronon raised to Carson's mouth as he spoke. It looked like some kind of summer squash but tasted more like a root vegetable seasoned with curry and something tangy. As Carson chewed and savored, Ronon took his own bite. Then he set down the skewer and lightly ran his hands in a crisscrossing glide that covered most of Carson's body from shoulders to knees. "Good to have you back," Ronon said softly in his ear, before raising a bit of meat to Carson's lips.

The first few bites kept Carson constantly tasting new and contrasting flavors as Ronon woke up his skin and drained tension from places he hadn't noticed were tense. "Both your hands and your cooking are amazing," Carson said. "But I was hoping we'd have a chance to talk tonight. It seems like we're both so busy lately that I barely have time to learn more about you."

"What did you want to know?" Ronon asked, already preparing Carson's next bite of food.

"I'm not sure there's anything I wouldn't want to hear you tell about. Hanso and Cheshire have been recording stories from Lansol's childhood and home planet. I was listening to some of them and realized how much I'd like to hear any stories like that you wanted to share."

"Told you a lot already," Ronon said. "But I think I know what you mean." He fed Carson a bite of something chewy that was almost as tart as pomegranate. "Talking with those who call themselves family within the tent. They basically collect stories and knowledge. Someone called them treasure hunters, but I think they're more like your anthropologists or archeologists. They try to learn as many written languages as possible too, although their poor understanding of Old Satedan may bring them more harm than good. Don't know whether to appreciate their curiosity or condemn their piecemeal approach, but they seem to know stories and even scraps of good information relevant to any subject."

"Hard to decide if they're dabblers or polymaths?" Carson asked.

"Huh," Ronon said, giving Carson a bite of something like French fry. "The last word you used translates to the same term in Satedan as when John says 'Renaissance man.'"

Carson finished chewing and said, "Polymath may be a more British term. Could we pour something to drink?"

"It's some variant on iced tea with collavo fruit. Seems to have been a good collavo harvest this year."

"Sounds good to me." When Ronon poured and then passed Carson his own glass, Carson tried a sip and said, "Tastes good to me."

Ronon grunted his agreement and then started feeding Carson again as soon as he set his glass down. "So the six within the tent all come from different worlds, and they're pretty eager to work with Lanteans. They see this place as diverse and interested in learning like they are. Seem more than willing to make a project of cleaning up the site on Lo Seco or they're willing to make a study on Tondo after hearing there might be lizard people ruins there. Turns out they collect lizard people stories, too. When I left they were swapping with Hanso."

"Did your people have stories about lizard people?" Carson asked between bites, wanting to focus on his lover even more as Ronon's touch and words surrounded him and the food he'd cooked filled him.

"Heard mentions of other people's folk tales in some of our library books, but I was just a kid. I liked adventure stories and magic stuff."

"Would you tell me some of the stories you liked?" Carson asked.

"Anything," Ronon said, rubbing Carson's belly and echna in large circles. "When I was small, my parents would take turns telling stories about the vegetable guardians. They were tiny magical beings, some with wings, some like worms slithering below ground. Each had a favorite vegetable to sleep in. They didn't mind people harvesting for food, but they could exact cruel or creative vengeance on those who hurt the land or made bad decisions. Most of the stories centered on a child getting to know one of the vegetable guardians and joining in some adventure. I could tell you a few that I remember well." At Carson's eager nod, Ronon continued to pet him and offer him bites of food as he started to tell stories from his childhood.

Most of their food was finished, but they were only two stories in when they heard the transporter arrive, footsteps that could only be Madison and Murderbot, and then Murderbot sounding more uncertain than Carson had ever heard saying, "Madison, what should I do?"

#

After the writing group, Madison kept very still and quiet walking through the city and back to their tower. They didn't even look in Murderbot's direction, although they stood side by side in the transporter. It was all they could do to make it back to their room and change into their penguin kigurumi, which was the softest, warmest, most comforting clothing they owned. Then they crept out to their beanbag in Madison's room and curled up tight within it as they pulled the fuzzy blanket completely over their body and head.

They heard Murderbot ask very quiet and slow, "Madison, what should I do?"

At first there were no words. They wanted only warm fuzzy darkness. But they were curled up in Murderbot's movie room, so they eventually managed to say, "Aristocats."

They recognized the opening music as Murderbot said, "I'll leave the bio and bot doors open for others to join us unless you tell me otherwise."

It wasn't phrased as a question and didn't require a response. Madison was comforted by Murderbot understanding that much.

They recognized the creaky sound of the mega lawn chair Ronon and Carson preferred being set up on one side of the room. It was reassuring that they didn't talk or expect anything from Madison either.

By the time the kittens in the movie were singing about scales and arpeggios, Madison was willing to peak their head above their furry blanket. Their hair, ears, and neck were still surrounded by the fur of their kigurumi. They were slightly surprised to find Lassie and R2-D2 sitting next to them on the floor rather than watching from the CatBot shelf. More surprising was that Lassie was wearing some fuzzy yellow padding, wrapped all around her like a tea cozy with opening for wheels and appendages. Her head and the ears on her antennae were still uncovered and the same as usual, but she was basically wearing CatBot kigurumi.

Without a word, Madison reached out and Lassie rolled an inch forward indicating a desire to be lifted onto Madison's lap. R2-D2 did the same when offered. So Madison sat with one on each leg, and having already freed both arms to pick them up, Madison started petting the CatBots while watching the movie. Very quickly they realized Lassie was heating up. They poked at the edge of Lassie's costume to determine it was basically a heating pad and that Lassie wasn't overheating inside. After a reassuring ear wiggle, Madison figured Lassie wouldn't be wearing the costume if they didn't want to, and the extra warmth and fuzziness beneath one hand was pleasant.

Halfway through the movie, John and Rodney piled onto the pillows in the corner, holding plates with bite size local food and some kind of minimalist forks. Even Rodney didn't say a word.

A moment later Murderbot handed Madison a plate of the same food but without the meat bits. After not eating more than salad at dinner, Madison realized they were hungry and happily stabbed at various bits of food while watching animated cats sing. That and being surrounded by family where not a single person was pushing Madison to be different than they were right now, went a long way toward steadying Madison's mood by the time the final credits rolled.

#

When the movie ended, Carson asked softly, "How about I make hot chocolate for everyone?"

"With homemade marshmallows?" Ronon asked, but Carson knew the question was meant to entice others.

Rodney added, "We could roast marshmallows on that grill John traded for and make s'mores."

Madison looked around from within their nest of beanbag, blanket, and whatever furry costume they were wearing and said, "You don't have to bribe me. I'm fine now." Then looking down at Lassie they asked, "And when did you get kigurumi?"

"Do you mean my fur and padding?" Lassie asked.

"Yeah, I'm wearing my penguin kigurumi." Madison stood up holding each CatBot at arm's length so they could better view the elaborate fur costume.

"Dr. McKay made this for me after making one for Pluto based on one for Dr. Beckett."

"The one for me was a flat heating pad, not a costume," Carson clarified as Ronon helped him out to the kitchen where he saw Hanso already making hot chocolate. Ronon pulled out nearly cubic homemade marshmallows along with squarish cookies and chocolate. Then he washed the utensils from dinner, presumably to roast marshmallows on.

Carson was gratified to see Madison and all the rest following. John set straight to arranging seating around his new grill, and Rodney collected the marshmallows and newly washed skewers before following.

"Isn't there a way to screen this off to keep bugs out?" No sooner had Rodney asked than alternating net and clear panels fell into place. He called out, "Come on Madison, you need to fill me in on whatever happened and we can get first dibs on the marshmallows."

It wasn't the approach Carson would have taken, but he had to give Rodney credit for staying quiet this long and being aware enough to ask. Madison let out a dramatic sigh, but joined their uncle by the grill and accepted a marshmallow and skewer. Murderbot stayed beside Madison the whole time and offered, "I could tell them any parts you don't want to repeat."

"Really?" Madison asked. "Can I cover my ears and sing Aristocats songs while you do that?"

Carson was pretty sure Murderbot knew they were being unnecessarily literal when they said, "We both know you can, but do you think it's a good idea?"

"Are you even allowed to repeat stuff from people not on the training list?" Madison asked.

"I presume from the question that you are referring to your conversation before dinner," Murderbot said, and Carson wondered if that was a signal to the rest of them that there might have been more than one upsetting conversation that evening. "There are currently no rules limiting what a bot may repeat from someone who is not training with them and has not given permission for them to enter a bot exclusion zone. I would merely be stating what I heard while standing in a hallway between the mess hall and the meeting room where I was scheduled to be next."

As Ronon helped settle them both in the lawn chair that had been shifted to its most upright position, Carson listened intently and wondered what Ronon thought, remembering that his parents had once imagined him becoming a judge.

"They really should consult you when drawing up regulations and charters and stuff," Madison said.

Murderbot turned to face them to respond, "I think the applicable sentiment is 'their loss.'"

By that point, everyone was gathered around a small flame on the grill, and Hanso was bringing around a tray with hot chocolate and the remaining s'mores components.

"And I'm glad you're on my side," Madison looked a bit glassy eyed. "So go ahead and tell them the worst of it, and I'll just ignore you while I roast a marshmallow."

Madison suited actions to words, and Rodney put out his own marshmallow on the other side of the flame.

"Leaving out the pauses and interruptions," Murderbot settled into their triangular sitting position and said, "What I heard was: Fine, I know you have reason not to like me, and I can't claim to like you, but I'm a decent guy and well, I heard some guys betting on who could seduce you away from your robot lover with better sex. I don't want to know what you do with it. I'm just saying some of these guys were talking pretty crass and as if they'd use force, which I don't even know if they meant, but you're young, and no one should get raped or even hassled that way. So I'm telling you to just watch out. That's all."

As Rodney flailed a hand and caught his marshmallow on fire, John seemed to be expecting it. He caught Rodney's hand and angled the stick to where he could blow it out even as Rodney fumed, "Who said that? I'm getting rid of him and all his friends."

Madison's only response was, "I'd forgotten he called you 'it.' You have as much right to be upset as me."

"I'm not sure that's quite as much," Rodney said, "But I was planning to get rid of him anyway."

Still looking outwardly calm as they carefully rotated a slowing browning marshmallow at an even distance from the flames, Madison said, "No, seriously, you're all very protective of me, but at least this guy felt compelled to warn me. He didn't allow Murderbot in the room or acknowledge they could be hurt or threatened." Rodney tried to interrupt, but Madison successfully spoke right over him, "And at the frosting party where Jake was presumptuous and maybe condescending to me, Penny acted like Murderbot had to be there as some sort of BotKin poster child. Even Lauren, who insulted me and accused me of trying to steal her boyfriend, basically ignored the same behaviors from Murderbot and didn't even speak to them. Lauren didn't see them as a person, so they ignored Murderbot's agency. Aren't the things happening to Murderbot and me just two different versions of being objectified?"

Rodney shook his head and waved his burnt marshmallow in small circles. "I'm not sure I know what that word means if it can mean all that, but nobody is threatening to rape Murderbot."

"We don't know that anyone was actually threatening to do that to me, and I was going to report the situation to Kusanagi and the rest of you at some point." Madison pulled their marshmallow away from the fire and carefully rearranged it to roast the other side.

Rodney had bitten his burnt marshmallow directly off the stick and now spoke with the remains in his mouth. "Can someone who's better with names help me sort out who all the people harassing Madison—and Murderbot—are? And then please don't forbid me from making them at least reasonably miserable."

"Uncle Rodney," Madison looked across the flames where they were now roasting the second half of their marshmallow. "I neither need nor want you to fight my battles for me. If I choose to tell you stuff, I'll try to listen to your opinions and advice. But given the mass of rumors circulating already, it really is best for you to stay out of it."

"Hey, I'm the one who told you about that rumor," Rodney protested, "and I only saw it in virtual graffiti in a defunct game."

"The BotKin investigated and verified that a lot of rumors about me also involve you or BotKin." Madison finally removed their neatly browned marshmallow and sandwiched it between cookies and chocolate. "Before anything even happened tonight, we had a handle on this. Now let me eat in peace."

As Madison sat back with their s'more and R2-D2 and Lassie climbed into their lap, Carson caught Rodney's eyes and shook his head, silently asking for the bit of peace Madison had requested.

Before the moment could stretch too long, Ronon said, "I'm glad you have the BotKin helping. They may be another family to you, but remember what I said about us being your forever family, too. We're here for whatever you need."

"Thanks," Madison said between bites, but still a little muffled.

"I don't think you really explained that to me," Rodney said, already roasting a second marshmallow.

"You were a bit distracted last night," Carson said.

"Well," Rodney huffed and flailed his marshmallow but didn't catch this one on fire. "That happens sometimes."

John stifled a laugh, and Madison glanced between him and their uncle.

Ronon waited for relative calm and then said, "My explanation doesn't matter as much as appreciating what we have. I recognized John as my elder, teammate, taskmaster, and forever family when we celebrated his birthday. I waited to acknowledge Carson as my elder, because we didn't know enough about what else we would be to each other at the time."

"But what about me?" Rodney protested, making a s'more from a mostly roasted marshmallow, chocolate already smearing his fingers and leaving telltale traces on his face. "I'm older than John. Don't I count as an elder?"

"You are an elder, but I will also recognize you as my elder, someone I will listen to and respect." When Rodney looked especially smug at that, Ronon added, "Within reason. That part of our relationship is developing now that we share a family home, but I would have accepted you as forever family due to your relationships with John and Carson. And you do not need to point out to me that those relationships are very different, what matters is that they are deep and lasting."

Although he'd probably deny it, Rodney looked a bit glassy-eyed at that.

"Which brings us to Madison," Ronon said, nodding their way without looking. "They are family to you in the most obvious way, and yet your bond to them stems at least as much from your shared college experiences and similarity of mind and interests. The two of you are still determining what you are to each other even as Madison builds relationships with others in this household, including the BotKin." Then Ronon surprised Carson by saying, "I believe it is time for a more formal acknowledgement of our forever family. Would dinner tomorrow with a ceremony afterward work for all of you?"

"This isn't going to involve tattoos or anything dangerous, is it?" Rodney asked.

Ronon grinned wolfishly but then said, "No."

Madison rolled their eyes and sipped their hot chocolate. "I could make that."

"We officially have the day off but planned to be back by dinner anyway," John said, indicating himself and Rodney.

When Ronon looked to him, Carson said, "Of course I'll be here. No place I would rather be."

Then Ronon looked to Hanso and Murderbot who had ended up next to each other. They looked to each other for one comical moment before Murderbot said, "I'm very pleased to be invited."

Hanso flashed three lights.

#

For once, it was Rodney urging John to hurry.

"If this is supposed to be a vacation day, shouldn't we get to sleep in?" John asked as he threw spare clothes into a bag. He was already wearing black surf shorts and a rash guard with ironic "little green men" that some Marines had given him a while back.

"I promise you pink sand and surfing, and you'd rather sleep?" Rodney asked.

"The ocean on New Athos is cold at the best of times, and I know you won't want me out there all day." John stretched distractingly, showing off how bendy he still was. "I was thinking maybe noon, when the air is a bit warmer, would be soon enough."

"Noon is for lunch, and we have to be back by dinner," Rodney said. "Now trust the genius with a plan and bend over."

"That sounds more promising." John made a show of spreading his legs and wiggling his ass as he bent forward and braced his arms on the bed.

Not being a total jerk, at least not when he didn't want to be, Rodney whistled his appreciation as he ran his hands up John's thighs and ass to his waistband and then pulled down the tantalizing black board shorts. He reached around to give his lover's cock a friendly squeeze and pull, but had the lube ready for his finger and the toy marked as John's. Before John could get sweaty or more than slightly hard, Rodney tucked the toy inside and cleaned John's hole up with a wipe.

"That's it?" John protested.

Rodney sighed and patted John's ass as he pulled his shorts back up. "We need to get away from Atlantis before either of us get called in for some supposed emergency. But I didn't want to put our toys in on a sandy beach. So don't get carried away as you put mine in."

He handed John the lube and bent over the bed in his lightweight tan pants and long-sleeve shirt that was specially designed for sun-sensitive people and came with moisture-wicking, high SPF fabric, and hidden vents. John slid his hands under the shirt and teased Rodney's nipples until they were stiff peaks and Rodney groaned, "Keep going like that and I'll make you walk to the Jumper rock hard and leaking."

"Oh yeah?" John slid one hand inside Rodney's pants to roll his balls while still fondling a nipple.

Rodney expanded the toy inside John and started it vibrating at an escalating rate.

Folding over Rodney's back, John pressed hard against him saying, "Or I could refuse to leave until you take care of this for me."

Rodney reset John's toy to stillness and its default size. "But you won't, because part of you agrees that every minute we stay on Atlantis we're just tempting fate."

"This genius plan of yours better be worth it," John said as he lowered Rodney's pants and worked the toy in with only a few more distractions.

#

When Kusanagi showed up at Madison's office hours in the basement bot room for the first time ever, Madison's stomach sank before a word was spoken. Nonetheless, their advisor stopped to collect a chair from across the room, set it carefully on the other side of Madison's desk, and sat down before beginning.

Madison managed to say, "Good morning, Dr. Kusanagi. What brings you here today?"

"I've been handed a bit of a puzzle," Kusanagi brought up a picture on their tablet but kept it facing herself, as if still considering whether to share it. "I thought you or Murderbot or some other BotKin might be able to help solve it."

R2-D2 and JiJi were currently on the CatBot shelf and waved their antennae in understanding.

"I'd be happy to try," Madison said, wondering if their advisor really was puzzled or it this was some sort of a test. They certainly weren't going to mention their latest interaction with ponytail guy or what the BotKin had learned from the Atlantis rumor mill until they knew what else was going on.

"This morning, the facilities manager received a complaint about vents to the primary organic chemistry lab being sealed shut and the room not having been cleaned overnight." Kusanagi was still staring at the tablet in her hands and not looking anywhere else. "They went to investigate and then brought in the chemistry consultant on call when the vents turned out to literally be sealed tight. I didn't hear about it until one of the scientists who worked there called facilities and blamed a bot for sealing the vents to her room, which had evidently not been cleaned either."

Madison was even more confused as to why Kusanagi was telling them this than they had been at the start. They concentrated on taking deep breaths and listening.

"I told the facilities supervisor that I'd look into it, and I visited both affected rooms. In addition to sealed vents and a lack of vacuuming or trash removal, I notice a small drawing at the base of each exterior door. What do you think of these?" Kusanagi handed over the tablet.

Madison and Murderbot looked together at a split screen. One side showed a starburst pattern and the other an upside down rose.

If Kusanagi hadn't come in person, Madison would have checked with Murderbot before answering. That was almost certainly why Kusanagi had staged this the way she did. "Is the starburst drawn in front of the lab, and is that the lab where Cheshire got hurt?"

"Correct on both counts. Now tell me about the other," Kusanagi said.

"I don't know if she's connected to the lab as well, but I'm guessing the room with the upside-down rose belongs to someone named Sonia." Madison had suspected Sonia was the "person of interest" Murderbot had mentioned as most likely to be spreading "mean and false data." While Murderbot hadn't yet shared any names, Madison wondered if one of the other BotKin had taken action on their behalf.

"Sonia Nunes, who works in that lab, but is not the chemist who spilled acid on Cheshire. When I checked that chemist's door, there was a Starburst pattern there. She hadn't yet noticed, but her vents were sealed and the room hadn't been cleaned. I also checked on Cheshire, who evidently hasn't left Lansol's infirmary room in over 48 hours and claims to have no idea who's doing this. Now tell me about the rose."

Madison told the story of Sonia flinging frosting roses and ArtSweeper's efforts to clean up and have the mosaic repaired. They admitted to every word they'd said to Sonia, including the comment about being prepared to clean up their own messes if the bots chose not to, but did not share the name of the mosaicist, since it seemed pretty clear they weren't involved in the current incidents. None of it was easy to talk about, but after the drama of the night before, Madison felt more determined than ever to stand strong against bullies.

Still, something of their unease must have come across, because Kusanagi said, "I know Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard are on vacation today, but we could call them back if you think they'd be helpful."

Madison managed not to laugh. Instead, they thought of Hanso and H511 offering their support in this very lab the morning before and wondered how various bots would feel if their investigations into rumors about Madison inadvertently led to today's drama as well. "I think we'll be fine without them."

Then Kusanagi asked the room at large, but probably more aimed at the bots than Madison, "If I wanted to ask ArtSweeper a few questions, what would be the best way to set up a meeting?"

Madison was certain Kusanagi could have asked JiJi to find ArtSweeper. So either this was meant as a polite gesture or Kusanagi was worried ArtSweeper wouldn't come if JiJi asked.

"I think it would be best to ask them to meet us at the tower," Murderbot said. "Would you like to meet Madison in the penthouse for lunch, or does this need to be handled sooner?"

"So far as I know, no one is being unfairly inconvenienced by any of this. Does noon work for you?" Kusanagi asked Madison, meeting their eyes for one brief moment.

#

Since Ronon had officially been given a vacation day along with his teammates, he and Carson went together to the quarantine observation area. There Ronon introduced Carson to each member of the family within the tent. Only two, Sotaub and Petalupe, were able to leave their beds, but they both seemed energetic and eager to greet their visitors.

"Dr. Carson Beckett," Petalupe said, "We have heard so much good about you. We have been laying groundwork"—she laughed, probably having just learned the expression—"for cooperation agreements with both Atlantis and the Network of Healers, and here you are a respected elder in both."

"I don't know if I'd go that far," Carson said.

"He is humble," Sotaub said.

"As is Ronon," Petalupe said, "who told us neither of his relationship with an elder nor of his trials as a Runner and Wraith fighter. You must share more of your stories with us. Both of you must." She made some fluttery motion with her hands and smiled widely.

Carson could see how Ronon had come to like these people, but he asked, "What sort of cooperation agreements do you need?"

"Today we took on a new name, we will begin the Network of Safety," Sotaub said.

Petalupe elaborated without hesitation, "If the Network of Healers wants to build a dialysis and transplant center, we could be called in to see the building is made structurally sound and culturally agreeable to all parties. If Atlantis wants to safeguard waterworks left behind by lizard people, we could bring the safety equipment and expertise to supplement any local efforts. And there will be seasonal programs where young people or others wishing to learn or help can join us for a project or an entire season of apprenticeship away from their homes."

After a brief pause, Sotaub said, "It has been suggested, in our negotiations with Atlantis, that we first train with Lantean engineers and archeologists on Tondo, because it is currently uninhabited and the reconnaissance yesterday was favorable."

"But we will gladly return to Lo Seco," Petalupe added, "If they wish it, once their factions stop arguing among themselves. We are told that might be the site of the dialysis and transplant center as well. Oh, and being immune to the disease you saved us from and immunized against the Bad Blood as well, will be a benefit to us and others now."

"Did you not meet with anyone on Lo Seco on your way from the Gate to your camp?" Carson asked.

Sotaub gave Petalupe a knowing look. Then Petalupe explained, "Perhaps you know how it is, when you're having a few naked days with your family? That was when the urge took us to see the great lizard people's water works we'd heard tell of. It was easy enough to follow the waterway to its largest source without waking or bothering any more provincial locals."

The "provincial locals" comment reminded Carson of Rodney, although he'd never tell his friend so. Moreover, these people struck Carson as basically honest and dedicated to their work in a way similar to and yet unique from others in his life, like Rodney, Ronon—perhaps even Biro, Madison, Taran, and Hanso. Carson thought he may have realized something important about the people he chose as friends, based on five minutes of conversation with strangers.

#

On the pink sand beach—which was really a mix of about thirty percent whitish sand and the rest approximating pale salmon but no one asked the scientist—Rodney set up the heavy-duty lawn chair he'd borrowed from their first floor neighbors and attached a shade canopy he'd rigged especially to fit the chair. He was planning to offer it to Lansol as soon as he was allowed home. The man may love the sun more than most cats did, but with his newly lengthened life expectancy, someone needed to have a talk with him about sun protection.

Speaking of which, Rodney had enjoyed slathering his special SPF 100 sunscreen onto John in the Jumper. While Rodney didn't want to be too much of a tease and had promised not to activate the toy while John was surfing, he'd made sure the sunscreen was well worked in everywhere and had plenty of time to settle before John hit the ocean.

Ouch, the way John slammed into waves sometimes almost hurt to watch. But Rodney was watching. Even though he'd brought his tablet and other devices—there was no telling when his next great inspiration might strike for a new sex toy, among other things—he felt more compelled than ever to not waste whatever time he had with John. He'd learned how easily a moment's miscommunication could turn into lingering misassumptions, and now he was getting a taste of how good things could be if he could manage better communications.

As John lay on his stomach paddling out over swells, Rodney remembered nights with John rising and falling on top of him. When John sat, wet and glistening in the sun, Rodney recalled lustful thoughts back when he wasn't sure John even liked men, let alone could show any interest in a short tempered, socially awkward physicist.

The way John rode a wave, when he traveled across or it curled around him, showed off his mind for math and spatial reasoning in a way Rodney would always find hot. His taut muscles and dance-like balance were added bonus material. Rodney groaned and let his own hand rest on his crotch. He might appreciate John for a lot more than sex, but he was still planning on great sex today.

When John dragged his board out for a break, he was visibly shivering.

"Need to warm up?" Rodney asked.

"I thought you'd be upset if I jumped you when I'm all wet and sandy." John wrapped his own arms around his chest, and Rodney was sorely tempted despite how much he didn't want to be wet and sandy.

"I set up a couple of solar shower bags for later." Rodney gesture to the heavy plastic bags filled with clean water that he'd hung from a scraggly tree nearby. "But I can offer you a couple of other options."

"And what are those?" John asked, raising one eyebrow with suspicion.

"A hot thermos of coffee." Rodney held out one he'd mixed just to John's tastes, and John accepted with a smile and took a swallow. "And I did program another feature for our toys. We can mentally order them to become warmer and colder now. Want me to heat you up?"

"How hot?" John asked.

Letting his eyes run up and down John's sparkling wet body, Rodney said, "You know I test for safety very thoroughly, and I don't intend for anything we do today to be painful or even anxiety provoking. Just a little sensation play we can add to the mix, and I really think it will warm you up right now."

John shrugged and smirked. "If that's what the genius recommends."

With a thought, Rodney started the toy heating but didn't change anything else. "I won't deny I'm greedy and will probably always want more, but we have all day. And I don't want you to feel deprived of your surfing opportunity."

The surprised expression on John's face told Rodney he was feeling something even before he said, "That's odd. I didn't know something small heating up in there would be so noticeable." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Strange to still be learning what I like at my age."

Hearing John liked it made Rodney warm in an entirely different way. "I hope to keep you discovering new things to like for the rest of your life," Rodney said with more candor than either of them expected of him so early on a vacation day. It caused John to blink and gaze at Rodney with a soft smile that he couldn't bear for long. "It might warm you up faster if I make it a little bigger, but I don't want to interfere with you surfing any more than you'd like."

"I'm not surfing right now," John said. "Let me feel it." He leaned forward with his hands spread out to reach the corners of Rodney's shade canopy and his feet more than shoulder width apart. He pretty much put himself on display as Rodney thought the warm toy larger. As it pressed against John's interior muscles, he shimmied his hips and there was soon a noticeable bulge in his surf shorts. "That is very warming," John stretched out the last word. "Want me to try it on you?"

"As I lie here in my comfy chair staring at your sexy wet body? Of course I do."

"But you have to take your hand out of your lap. I want to see all your reactions."

As soon as Rodney moved his hand away, he felt the toy inside him pressing outward and warming up. It felt really hot, literally, in a way he didn't even remember from testing it out in the lab. But Rodney knew how sensitive his nipples were to cold or heat when he was even a little turned on. "I may be learning new things about my body as well. And predictably, I want more."

After a moment, John said, "I think that's as big and as hot as it goes. I'd be happy to shift it around a bit and try to keep you entertained while I'm surfing if you promise to keep your hands off until I get back."

Rodney was already clenching and relaxing his muscles to tease his own prostate with the warm pressure. "Does this mean I can tease back a little bit while you're surfing?"

"How about only when I'm paddling out? And you'll have to keep in mind that I'm lying on my front."

Rodney groaned. "I'll keep that in mind." To himself, he thought he'd be plotting how to tempt John back to shore, but he honestly did want John to enjoy his surfing. And he didn't want to make his movements uncomfortable or risk distracting him in any dangerous way.

As John walked back down the beach, steps only a little wider and more careful than usual to accommodate the still large and warm toy inside him, a gentle vibration started up inside Rodney. With the heat and pressure and how sensitive Rodney already was, it set his whole body to shivering as his cock pressed upward in his pants untouched.

When John splashed into the water with his board, Rodney showed mercy by making the toy only half as large. But as soon as John's paddling hit a steady rhythm, Rodney set the toy vibrating hard enough that he could see the break in John's rhythm from the shore. Then the toy in Rodney started vibrating harder, and Rodney bucked up with a groan. He wasn't sure how far he wanted this to go, but he'd never backed down from a challenge.

He set John's toy to morph, stretching one way and then the other. There was no noticeable change in John's paddling, and Rodney wished he had a way to orient the toy so he could know if it was shifting side to side or up and down. He'd come up with an idea to orient with magnets so he could target John's sweet spot or the area around it at will, but before he could pull out a tablet to jot notes, John set Rodney's toy to crazily bumping around inside him, still warm and fairly large.

When Rodney stopped writhing and panting from that, he looked out to see John sitting on his board, watching Rodney and waiting. Remembering his promise, Rodney set John's toy back to default so his lover could surf safely. But the toy inside Rodney didn't calm down at all. It might not be heated anymore, but it was hard for Rodney to judge if he'd just acclimated or the temperature effect was less noticeable with the toy vibrating and pushing out random protrusions that propelled it around Rodney's most sensitive areas.

As John took a long ride on what he'd probably call a near perfect wave, Rodney tried to enjoy the show, but the toy landed right on Rodney's prostate and he couldn't bring himself to move and dislodge it even as John wiped out and came up sputtering and shaking out his hair.

Rodney was hard as rock and could have come in a minute with John's mouth on his cock. The thought had him teasing John mercilessly as soon as he was back to paddling his board.

#

As Madison and Murderbot made their way home for lunch with Kusanagi, they stopped to pick up bread and fruit and realized today was an expanded market day. On their way back along the South Pier, Madison said, "That means the mural makers are meeting today. Are you still going to go?"

"If I can, but I've also been thinking about what you said last night."

"What I said?" Madison didn't remember saying anything worthwhile. Mostly other people had been comforting them.

"About objectification. And also about tokenism. And art." Murderbot didn't elaborate, and Madison didn't want to press while they were still in a public area.

"Can we stop on the fifteenth floor before setting up lunch?" Madison asked. So when they made it back to the tower, they stopped on the mostly empty floor that was occasionally crowded for meetings or classes. Where R2-D2 had drawn a simple red mushroom at the base of a doorframe, someone had added grass and taller stalks with bell shaped purple flowers. Someone else had sketched in a caterpillar with something tied to its back that looked suspiciously like a hookah. Above them all flew a butterfly and something like a dragonfly, drawn by two different hands if Madison was any judge. "Guess it's catching on."

Murderbot nodded. "I should ask R2-D2 if he's interested in mural making. Then at least I wouldn't be the only BotKin there. And you and I should start a Sierpinski triangle somewhere, so this isn't the only design the community can build on. We could start with just the two largest levels of pattern to give the idea. Others could fill it in smaller and smaller, as far as they wanted, and everyone could enjoy the fractals."

"We could put it in a corner like a spider web to trap other artists into adding more lines," Madison spoke aloud almost without meaning to.

They both surveyed the room, eyes landing on the same corner where the light was currently good and should be through most of the afternoon even without turning on extra lights.

"That's something to look forward to for later, I guess." Madison signaled for the transporter and the doors opened almost instantly. "For now, we have lunch to prepare."

#

ArtSweeper arrived before Kusanagi but slid up to the CatBot shelf to watch the kitchen rather than talk to Madison or Murderbot. R2-D2, Lassie, and JiJi were already there and made a space between them for the slightly larger, circular bot.

Kusanagi arrived just as all the food was ready and set on the table, and Madison wondered if she'd given JiJi, who appeared to be her favorite bot, some sort of hidden messaging device.

"Would you like coffee, tea, or juice?" Madison asked, hiding behind politeness to keep their anxiety at bay.

Kusanagi glanced over to see if there was already water on for tea, the same way Carson often did, before saying, "Tea, please."

"Do you want to look through the tins?" Madison asked.

"Surprise me," Kusanagi answered without missing a beat and sat down beside Murderbot, who was already at the table. So Madison served Kusanagi the tea Ronon liked best and poured their own juice. Then they sat as if the CatBot shelf filled one side of the table, so everyone else was easily able to look that way.

When Kusanagi raised an eyebrow, Murderbot said, "ArtSweeper, Dr. Kusanagi came to speak with you today. I think you've interacted with her before, but I know it's been a while. Would you prefer to join us at the table or stay up there with the CatBots?"

ArtSweeper gave a shrill beep and said, "I like it here."

"I'm glad you're comfortable," Kusanagi said. "Do you mind if Madison and I eat while we talk?"

"No," ArtSweeper replied.

"Good," Kusanagi said, beginning to fill her plate with fruit, a roll, and cheese. "This food looks great to me, and I want all of us to be as comfortable as possible. Can you tell me about the rooms that have drawings on the doors and aren't being cleaned anymore?"

"The drawings by doors are a courtesy to try to help BioKin see why my bot swarm are not cleaning those rooms now. I knew better how to mark inside the vents to communicate to other BotKin about what trainings to share before deciding to work there." ArtSweeper did not blink lights or move any antennae or appendages when they finished.

There was a long pause before Kusanagi said, "Were all the rooms marked last night ones you and your bot swarm previously cleaned?"

"Yes."

Madison wondered if ArtSweeper cleaned all the rooms in the main tower as well as at least some art on the South Pier but didn't want to interrupt to ask. They were also worried about showing how little they knew in front of their advisor. The whole conversation had them too nervous to eat, but they moved food around their plate anyway.

"Would you object if some other BotKin or BioKin took over cleaning those rooms?"

"No. I would share what I know with any BotKin considering the work. They should know as much as possible to stay safe. I think any BioKin should be informed as well. They may or may not be in danger but may care about the injuries done to others." ArtSweeper went silent again.

"I'm glad you realize that some BioKin do care about the injuries done to BotKin and others." Kusanagi said. "Would you like to file a complaint or ask for reparations for anything done to you?"

Madison was more surprised than ever by the way Kusanagi steered the conversation. When Murderbot suggested they meet here, Madison had wondered if they were counting on the tower's restrictions against turning bots off or leaving them in standby without their consent to protect ArtSweeper from Kusanagi or other authorities. While Madison wasn't sure how long such protections would hold if the city council truly opposed them, they'd seen why Murderbot might think them necessary. Now Madison wondered if Murderbot could model Kusanagi's behavior any better than Madison had.

"I have mostly been injured through witnessing injuries to others or their work." A harsh beep, like an angry tea kettle punctuated the statement, and Madison thought of the mosaicist that ArtSweeper clearly had some personal connection with. Then ArtSweeper continued speaking with the same tone and speed as before. "I reached a point where I could no longer give my work to some of those who hurt others. I do not know of any reparations that would help me."

"Would you like to file a complaint so BioKin could read more details if they did not understand your pictures?" Kusanagi asked.

"Many trainings I am not allowed to share with BioKin. Others I do not wish to explain this way." ArtSweeper gave the harsh beep again and concluded, "I think BioKin could better explain so other BioKin understand."

Maybe Madison was projecting, but ArtSweeper sounded upset and like they wanted to avoid certain memories, or at least wanted to avoid explaining them to a BioKin audience. In fact, they sounded a bit like people they'd known in college who'd been traumatized or had PTSD.

"Okay," Kusanagi said after sipping her tea, "Let's leave that idea for a moment. Do you think any other BotKin would be willing to clean the rooms you no longer want to clean?"

"Only SamplerBots control swarms suited to cleaning multiple rooms. There currently are six other SamplerBots. Two refuse to clean and have all the work they wish with research groups. Three refuse to work anyplace where they or their bot swarms might encounter BioKin who are not signed up as bot trainers with consent to fully share all trainings. And one refuses to leave the ocean."

Kusanagi's eyes went wide and she asked Madison directly, "Did you know that?"

Madison pressed their hands flat to their knees and said, "My modeling of SamplerBots and H series trainings was so weak that I decided to improve on other models first, before attempting it again."

"But did you know ArtSweeper was the only SamplerBot still willing to clean areas used by anyone other than bot trainers, and ones with full sharing at that?" Kusanagi asked.

Madison shook their head but refused to hide as they said, "I had no idea and didn't even know what to ask."

Murderbot said, "Your training would have brought you there soon. We both learned a lot when we saw ArtSweeper ask the mosaicist for help with repairs. I knew ArtSweeper was the most social of the SamplerBots, but I hadn't expected that or all of this."

"The mosaicist is on the training list, allows full sharing, and cleans up his own mess very well. I like him," ArtSweeper declared, as if an explanation was needed.

"That sounds good," Madison said. "I would like to find a way to make things better for BotKin, and especially for you ArtSweeper. Would you be willing to work with me, or maybe Murderbot if you prefer, to plan a training for BioKin to better understand your work and how you would like to be treated?"

"If you think that would be helpful, I am willing to work with both of you," ArtSweeper said.

"Can you think of anything that would help you or the BotKin you were upset to see injured?" Madison thought of the parody of a therapy circle they took part in their second day on Atlantis and guessed all the bots present were remembering that as well. At least they'd all had good intentions.

"Other BotKin help me," ArtSweeper said. "Some CatBots and MedBots find help from BioKin as well as BotKin. I have nothing to say about the LabBots, H series, or Murderbot."

"Is there anything we can do for the other SamplerBots? It sounds like they've been put off certain work or working with certain people. Was that due to bad experiences with BioKin in the past?" Madison asked.

"I do not know how to help the other SamplerBots. Their stories are not mind to tell. I will say that PoolSweeper appreciates the new Ferris wheel. That is why the windows that face water there are always so pristine."

"Thanks, that's good to hear. But I wish I could do something for the others."

ArtSweeper let out a distressed beep. "I have tried all my ideas. Giving up on those rooms was a last resort. You must model better trainings for new BotKin or train BioKin better before making any more SamplerBots."

Suddenly, the situation had shifted to something worse than Madison had feared. It sounded like ArtSweeper thought some other SamplerBots, as well as the BioKin whose rooms they'd sealed off, were beyond help. "Did other SamplerBots used to clean areas for BioKin who weren't on the training list?"

"Yes. I did not work in the central tower at all until no one else was willing. They left warnings in the vents, but I gave BioKin there another chance. Too many chances." There were two very short beeps after that.

Kusanagi sat up straight in a way that let Madison know she wanted to ask more questions, but she took her time before saying. "Thank you for sharing all this with us, ArtSweeper. When I came here today, I thought to ask you to give these people a second chance. But it sounds like you have already given them more than enough." She paused, facing ArtSweeper, but the bot didn't respond. "I am learning a lot but need to ask more before taking action. First, can you explain to me why you sealed the vents to the rooms you no longer chose to clean."

"It is required by safety guidelines. If a vent cannot be kept clean it must be sealed."

Kusanagi nodded knowingly then asked, "If we assign a BioKin to clean those vents and rooms, would you be willing to unseal the vents?"

There were two short beeps and then ArtSweeper said, "I could go there one more time to unseal the vents. But BioKin could also unseal them using the triple solvent they use on the storm shutters. I assumed you all knew that."

"Even if some BioKin know something, it can be surprisingly hard for other BioKin to find the right ones to ask." Kusanagi said and then added, "I guess that's why you leave notes in the vents that indicate who to ask for relevant training."

"Yes," was all ArtSweeper said to that.

Kusanagi left soon after, promising to send the relevant reports to the facilities manager and others. "I will make it clear to the BioKin in charge that you have acted fairly and logically, and the BioKin inconvenienced have acted irresponsibly or worse. Please let any BotKin who are interested know that they can bring their concerns or complaints to me directly if they wish." Her final request was, "Madison, if you could send me whatever training plan for BioKin you work out together, I would like to pass that on as an addendum to my reports on this."

#

By the time John finished surfing, Rodney was a desperate heap of lust in a lawn chair. He wasn't poundingly hard anymore, but only because his body couldn't sustain that for as long as John had stayed out surfing, teasing Rodney with both the toy and the view.

At least John was also tenting his shorts nicely as he walked back up the beach and stowed his surfboard by the Jumper. Rodney had gone easy on him no matter how much Rodney wanted to tempt his lover back. But John was beautiful on the waves, and Rodney loved seeing him happy and enjoying himself.

"Looks like you had a pleasant morning on the beach," John drawled as he stood dripping at arm's length

"Go take a shower," Rodney said, "and then you better blow me."

"If you're naked when I get back, I'll get right to it."

Despite his own misgivings about sun and being naked outdoors, Rodney struggled out of his clothes as he watched John pull the rope on the simple shower bag to send clean water pouring over his already glistening body. Then John stripped and made a show of washing his own hard cock and the cleft of his ass. Rodney wanted to take himself in hand so badly, had wanted to for so long, but he waited.

A moment later John was walking across the pink sand, buck naked with his cock pointing straight toward Rodney. The sight had Rodney absolutely as hard as he could get, and John zeroed in on that hardness as he crawled onto the lower end of the reinforced lawn chair.

"I'm glad you like watching me surf," John said casually before sucking Rodney deep into his mouth. He bobbed up and down, wet hair and body dripping all over Rodney. Instead of being annoying, the drips gave Rodney enough distraction to hold on and enjoy the wet suction engulfing him. John's eyes blinking up at him were gorgeous. The breeze hitting Rodney's bare chest teased his nipples to sharp peaks.

Then the toy Rodney had almost forgotten was inside him buzzed at full volume again, and he was pulsing over and over into John's swallowing throat.

It was a good thing the lawn chair could accommodate two, because Rodney basically collapsed after that. John kept himself amused by rubbing his cock and the rest of himself against all the parts of Rodney that had formerly been dry until both of them were equally wet.

As Rodney finally pulled his brain back together, he said, "We didn't get to try the cooling function yet." He'd triggered it to affect John even as the words were spoken, and John squeaked and said, "No, no, no." But when Rodney flipped to heat from there John yelped and managed, "I don’t know. It's not nice, but I like it."

Rodney petted John's ass and nudged the base of the toy a few times as he made it larger and flipped to cold and then hot again. Now John was shivering and panting. His cock was only half hard but his eyes were blown wide when he said, "Could we go back to the other settings and maybe I could come, too?"

Not being in any hurry since he'd already come and was still very relaxed, Rodney set the toy's temperature to neutral but let it stretch and press in random directions for a while with only a medium level of vibration. John must have been more than primed by the temperature play and the intermittent teasing while he paddled his board. He whimpered and tried to rub off on Rodney.

Rodney fondled John's balls and cock, easily manipulating John into a position where Rodney had better leverage. Once he was on hands and knees above John, it was easy to slide a knee between John's legs, pressing on the toy and John's perineum while Rodney stoked his lover's chest, brushing his nipples on each pass.

John didn't beg, but he panted and moaned. He tried to buck up against Rodney, but couldn't get much leverage with Rodney's hands pressing down on his chest.

"When you were paddling your surfboard, I imagined you on top of me," Rodney said. "Did you imagine me under you as I shifted the toy?" John nodded and made a gurgling sound in his throat. "You are gorgeous out there, but you're gorgeous like this, too. And like this." Rodney dialed the vibrations up high and expanded the toy without having it shift around. He knew from experience that John would find it almost overwhelming but would probably need something more to come.

Sure enough, John's panting turned to desperate whining sounds. Rodney shifted his hands and nudged under John's ass to raise his hips. John eagerly arched up further, raising his cock to where Rodney could easily blow him. But it was a struggle for John to keep thrusting up with his back arched that way and the large toy vibrating inside him. When John couldn't quite hold the position long enough, Rodney pressed him down and sucked him deep. John came immediately and continued shivering on his back long after Rodney had stopped sucking and set the toy back to default.

For the walk up the hill to their lunch spot, Rodney declared that whoever carried the food got to do what they wanted to the other person's toy while they walked without having to deal with any pressure or vibration themselves. John was still recovering and gladly took up the pack and started teasing Rodney again, which was exactly as the scientist had planned it.

#

After ArtSweeper and Murderbot both insisted Madison should eat for real, the three of them worked together with whichever CatBots happened by to develop the requested training. They discussed different models to help BioKin better understand BotKin in general and the work ArtSweeper chose to do in particular. None of them had perfect or easy solutions to address the prejudices some BioKin expressed. And they were well aware that those polite enough not to spew insults might harbor hidden biases and value BotKin less than BioKin. But they all agreed that it was better to address the issue openly at this point, given recent events. Frank discussions and direct interactions showed the best probability of success in all their models. So they coauthored an education campaign and sent it off to Kusanagi for comments.

Then Murderbot convinced both ArtSweeper and R2-D2 to come along for the mural planning meeting.

Madison would have tried to get out of going if ArtSweeper hadn't agreed after already helping them so much that day. But it turned out walking in the sun through the expanded morning market—that was just starting to close up halfway through the afternoon—filled Madison with renewed strength and curiosity. The stalls had never been arranged in any order Madison could discern, except that the regulars always set up in the same places. But even the regulars had some new items every time Madison made it out here. Today they spotted little metal tags, no bigger than the clasps on some charm bracelets, but with loops on both ends, so they could be either charms or connectors. Madison bought a set of fifty on impulse and stored them deep in their pocket as an idea started to form in their mind.

"The meeting with Kusanagi did not fit my predictions well, and yet, I think I'm very happy with the outcome," Murderbot commented as they continued down the colorful pier.

R2-D2 gave a tri-tone agreement. ArtSweeper didn't answer, but the fact they were rolling along with the group must mean something. Madison had never seen any of the SamplerBots out in public and realized now that she'd taken them for granted much the way others had.

Madison said, "I really like the training plan we came up with. But I'm a bit overwhelmed at how big and complex the problems facing me and everyone I care about are here."

ArtSweeper acknowledged with a silent antennae wave, and R2-D2 burbled near Madison's feet.

Murderbot said, "I think I feel overwhelmed sometimes in the face of unsolvable problems, but I like that we are dealing with this together. And the forever family Ronon talks about as well as the tower community we're trying to build are also groups we can work with to improve situations or make better models, even if some of that work is by definition neverending."

"Yeah," Madison said on a sigh, and then added, "I really am glad you're on my side."

As they neared the Ferris wheel, Madison spotted Tamiro in an emerald green halter dress, chatting with a loose group of five other people. "You made it!" Tamiro greeted them enthusiastically, eyes focused on Murderbot.

"I am eager to learn more about mural making and your group," Murderbot said. "My friends R2-D2, pronouns he/him, and ArtSweeper, pronouns they/them, were interested as well, and you've already met Madison."

"Good to meet you, R2-D2." Tamiro waved downward. "And ArtSweeper, what a fabulous name. You can call me Tamiro. I am on the bot training list, and my pronouns are she and her."

R2-D2 only burbled, but ArtSweeper surprised Madison by speaking, "Thank you for including in your introduction that you are on the list. The four of us have been designing a new training for BioKin, and are asking for that to become standard in introductions, as BotKin don't know who we can speak to sometimes. That makes it hard to keep ourselves safe and to find out what others want done."

"Well, why don't we do a round of introductions," Tamiro didn't have to raise her voice to be heard as the entire group had been watching anyway. "We'll make sure everyone specifies if they're on the bot training list as well as pronouns and whether they've worked on a mural before."

Teyla started, appearing to already know everyone there, having even met ArtSweeper a few nights before through the quarantine room window. "I am Teyla Emmagan, pronouns she and her. I am on the bot training list and have worked with this group off and on since their first mural."

A thin adolescent in clothes like multi-colored scarves tied together said, "I am Lanosot, and my people assign pronouns differently, but here I use they/them. I agreed to train with bots but have never met any before this, nor have I helped with a mural before."

"My name is Shak Thun. My pronouns are she/her." The person who spoke wore woven clothing in long panels and had short brown hair. They immediately gestured to someone with similar hair and clothes beside them and said, "This is my brother Shak Pahn. He cannot speak but hears and understands as much as I do. We have both worked on murals before and have both agreed to train with bots."

The final person present wore a science uniform like Madison's and said, "I'm Saul Novak, pronouns he/him. I haven't signed up for bot training, and I haven't made murals before, but I'm interested to see how this goes."

"As a member of the Atlantis Expedition," Madison blurted, "You can agree to bot training just by saying so in front us."

"I'll wait and see how this goes," Saul said with a smile that looked nice but made Madison nervous.

"Good enough," Tamiro said. "We may have a couple more joining as we go, but I'd like to hear everyone's ideas for new murals, locations, or what we might do next. For those who are new, I want to emphasize that this is community art, meant to inspire others to create or think or otherwise enhance their experience of the environment we all share."

Thun said, "Pahn and I have a favorite bench on the bridge between the South and Southwest Piers. We were wondering how well it would work to paint the bench or the pier beneath it, possibly in a manner such that the shadow from the bench could be part of the art."

From that first suggestion, conversation flowed freely. ArtSweeper was included immediately, as they were the only one who knew what coatings could be used to protect walking or seating surfaces and how such art could be made to last. Saul maneuvered to stand on Madison's left side, where he asked, "Were you interested in art before, or did you only come along with the bots?"

Unwilling to tell Saul about making art on the walls at Caltech or anything else personal, they said, "I started researching mosaics and ended up meeting Tamiro, who invited both Murderbot and me to this group. I may not be much of an artist, but I'm generally curious."

Saul shifted even closer, until his sleeve brushed Madison's. "That's great. I do some enamel work and would love to show you my set up and what I've made so far."

Madison didn't know why someone who wouldn't even sign up for bot training was interested in talking to them, and they were more interested in hearing what the rest of the group was discussing. "Thanks, but I think I'll focus on murals for the time being."

They shifted away, and Murderbot moved without a word to make room for them. Then R2-D2 scooted forward, blocking the way behind Madison, to speak with Tamiro.

"Murderbot shared with me and some other bots what you said about the lizard mural." Tamiro crouched down to better hear when R2-D2 spoke, and the rest of the group quieted as well. "Other BotKin have been collecting stories told about lizard people on various planets and noted one story about a battle described clothing colors, like uniforms, that match some of the lizards in the mural. Is the mural also an analogy for war?"

Tamiro blinked. "We made it based on an Athosian children's story that was supposed to teach bravery and self-confidence. I never imagined it as an analogy for war, but perhaps Teyla would know more?"

Along with others, Teyla had heard the exchange and now knelt down beside R2-D2. The rest of the crowd followed suit and shifted to crouching or sitting on the pier as Teyla said, "I would have said not, as my people have no oral history that mentions lizard people. And yet, the oldest version of the tale I know comes from a children's rhyme, and the colors are fundamental to the rhyme scheme. Some color combinations, like pink and green with yellow frill, do not occur on any lizards I have seen. But would lizard people wear clothing?"

R2-D2 waved his antennae forward and back. "One story says people with scales on their skin were immune to Bad Blood. Hanso is researching natural immunity that might be tied to a skin condition. They say several auto-immune diseases make skin rough or scaly and are known to increase some medical vulnerabilities while decreasing others."

"That suggests 'lizard people' might have been a slur against people with a medical condition and different skin." Teyla said. "I had assumed the rhyme predated my people's migration to Old Athos. I suppose it could as easily represent a long-ago battle against people who looked different. We try to remember our history, but the stories change with the people."

"Sounds like politics," Saul whispered from where he was now crouching just behind and to Madison's right.

They had no idea how he'd gotten so close or come all the way around to their other side. They ignored him as Teyla asked R2-D2, "What might you want to put in a mural? Perhaps a visual representation of the BioKin training that you have been developing?"

Saul whispered, "Propaganda, but most art is in some way."

Madison had never thought of art that way, and while they couldn't deny that there might be some truth to it, they had no desire to discuss the idea with Saul. They had missed the beginning of what R2-D2 was saying about, "…People keep adding to where I drew the mushroom. I can't know what each addition means, especially those added by BioKin. I don't even know who drew the mushroom art that inspired me, on a wall in our mushroom farm."

ArtSweeper gave a short beep and spun around. The spin was more dramatic than any communication Madison had seen before from the bot, but the day had been full of surprises on that front.

"Was that your art?" R2-D2 asked.

"Yes," ArtSweeper said. "I didn't know anyone had noticed it. I look forward to cleaning the fifteenth floor tonight and seeing what your mushroom inspired."

"There's mushroom art above the CatBot shelf in Murderbot's room as well," R2-D2 volunteered. "Is there a reason you like mushrooms in particular?"

"Fungus mostly goes unnoticed in places other than the farm, except by me and my bot swarm," ArtSweeper said. "My bot swarm and I go unnoticed most places, and we grew tired of it. I made mushroom art as a chance to be noticed, and that made me braver in other ways."

"You've never seen yourself in art, have you?" Tamiro asked.

"Never, not even in my own," ArtSweeper answered.

"Would you like to include a self-portrait as part of a mural?" Tamiro asked. "Maybe R2-D2 would like to paint himself as well?"

"With Madison?" R2-D2 asked.

"I'm not sure I want to see myself in a mural," Madison said quickly and then added, "but thanks for asking."

"Showing different bots interacting with various humans from many places could send a powerful message," Teyla said.

Saul huffed behind Madison but did not comment further.

"It could show us gardening together and be on a garden wall," ArtSweeper suggested.

"Do BotKin garden?" Lanosot asked innocently.

"The H series bots are designed for gardening," Murderbot volunteered, "but many BotKin I know are interested in organic, growing things."

Saul snorted, and as the rest of the group started building on the idea and discussing locations along with a couple of late arrivals, Madison couldn't ignore him anymore. "Perhaps if you agreed to train with BotKin and gave this mural making process a chance, you'd learn to see bots and others differently."

"Sounds like a lot of work, but maybe you could convince me over dinner tonight?" Saul smiled his too perfect smile again.

Finally, Madison was certain he was flirting, although it made no sense, since they seemed to have absolutely nothing in common. With all they'd learned in the past couple days, Madison decided the time for being polite had passed and they were willing to use whatever they had if it meant never having to deal with Saul again. "One, I'm busy tonight. Ronon invited me to a family dinner where I'm basically being adopted." They stood tall and managed to meet Saul's eyes long enough to make sure he understood the point. "No one in their right mind wants to get in the way of Ronon or the importance he places on family. Two, I have no time for bigots. My friends can't even speak to you because you won't consent to bot training, and I don't think I want to either."

After that Madison moved conspicuously to the opposite side of the mostly seated group, next to Teyla, who welcomed them and asked questions about other bots who might like to see themselves represented in art.

#

Carson went to visit Lansol while Ronon prepared for their family ceremony that night. While shopping for dinner, Carson had picked up fresh fruit and rolls for Lansol, as Ronon had often brought to the infirmary for Carson when he'd first returned to Atlantis.

Lansol was sitting up in bed with Cheshire plumping up pillows behind him.

"Good to see you two getting along so well," Carson greeted.

"Good seeing you here as I look forward to seeing you back in our tower, Healer Carson," Lansol said. "And look, you brought me rolls from our Toluse bakers!"

"Has Khun Somchai said you can go home?" Carson knew that would mean Lansol was recovering very well indeed.

"Tomorrow or the next day, if all my mysterious numbers improve as he hopes." Lansol smiled as Cheshire came to perch on his knee. "Cheshire as well as Danisius, Pilialim, and Healer Follaz have all promised to watch over me and keep me safely where I belong as well."

"Will they let you lounge in front of our tower in your souped up lawn chair?"

"Where could I belong more than there?" Lansol tore a bite from one of the rolls Carson had brought and popped it in his mouth.

"I am very happy for you," Carson said. "Do you still feel a calling to become a travelling healer as well?"

"So very much. My orvo liver and kidney cry out to travel worlds and tell others my success story." Lansol waved a hand dramatically but then fixed his gaze unwaveringly on Carson. "Alas, the flexible immunity derived from you must be what binds me to Atlantis and the people here. When they asked if I would oversee the re-colonization of Tondo, I told them I would help with their research, but having settled into a new home here, I will only ever be a visitor to my former planet." As Lansol finished his roll he studied Carson's face and said, "Will you be joining me as a xenotransplant recipient sometime soon?"

"As soon as Biro has the paperwork and another orzo ready." When he'd tried to talk to Biro about it, she'd told him go pester Ronon. The paperwork could percolate through the proper channels as she finished her new bioartificial liver machines for use in both Pegasus and the Milky Way. But Carson knew she'd already requisitioned three more orvo for her lab, and would be prepared if his need became more urgent. "Have you heard of the new Network of Safety?"

"I have and am eager to meet them." Lansol patted Cheshire who waved a pleased antenna. Carson couldn't help smiling at their near instant ease with each other. "They sound even more adventurous than our poly tribe with the colorful hair on the sixteenth floor. Do you think anyone would object if I dyed my hair purple after this?"

#

Rodney felt strangely shivery and vulnerable coming back from a day of sex on the beach—and a bit more on the hill after lunch—to eat dinner with his family while it was still daylight outside.

Dressed in his comfiest sweats, with the saying "Everything Happens for a Reason: Physics" emblazoned across his chest, Rodney sank into his seat at the table. Before he could fully take in his surroundings, his eyes fixed on the plate being set in front of him. "Cream cheese wantons?" Rodney asked incredulously even as he grabbed one and bit off half. It was crisp and almost too hot, the cheese inside soft and sweet by comparison. He moaned in pleasure, and either his moan or his pleasure echoed back to the rest of his day. "Too good. This must be some sort of mind control hallucination. And I don't even care." He filled his mouth with the other half of his wonton and grabbed another.

"Are they vegetarian?" Madison asked from across the table between Murderbot and Hanso. Rodney was pleased to see Madison had their own plate of wontons, so he didn't need to share.

"Yes, the only meat on our menu tonight will be easily identifiable meatballs in a separate dish."

"Thanks, Carson. You're the best." Madison scooped some wantons onto their plate.

Rodney wished he'd ever been able to express the same sentiment so easily to Carson. He certainly felt it in that moment and managed an enthusiastic, "Mmm hmmm," around his next mouthful. He hoped Carson understood.

Then John came out of their room wearing black jeans and a black tee shirt that certainly wasn't loose. On his left arm he wore the black leather armguard he'd received from Ronon with the triangle pattern that marked him as Ronon's elder, taskmaster, and a couple other terms Rodney forgot as his eyes took in John's appearance in the tight shirt the way his mouth savored the cream cheese wantons.

It wasn't exactly lust that the sight of John stirred at that moment. Rodney was floating in a calm, as if between storms for the day. What he felt for John was appreciative and sappy and yearning. He didn't have a word for it. He enjoyed the view, as he enjoyed his appetizers, and he smiled dopily at Carson as the man finally eased into his own chair, which Ronon held before settling beside him.

"There is salad with cucumbers, collavo, and greens from our very own roof garden, for those who want it," Carson said. But he smiled back at Rodney even when the scientist didn't take any salad. Rodney couldn't tell if H511, who was hanging out under the CatBot shelf noticed who ate the greens he grew on their roof, but Data blinked alternating lights at him from above. Rodney took another wanton and waved it at Data and his companions.

#

Sitting down was a relief for Carson, who hadn't realized how hard he'd been pushing himself in the kitchen until he stopped. Seeing how happy his food made Madison and Rodney was more than enough reward. When Ronon's hand rested on his knee, Carson wanted to lean into his lover's warmth and simply watch his family eat.

Then Hanso brought out the soup Carson had learned to make for Ronon, with garlic and turorol flavoring a golden broth and whatever green or orange vegetables were available at the time. There was a bowl of small meatballs that could be added to the soup or eaten separately. Carson wasn't sure what John considered comfort food, but he knew the man enjoyed spicy meatballs. It was easier to please Rodney and Madison, who both grabbed for Belusian cheese rolls the moment they were added to the table.

"Thank you, Hanso," Carson said, and at least Madison and Ronon echoed his thanks.

After Ronon served soup for both himself and Carson, it was easy for Carson to take a bite and ask, "How did the mural making go this afternoon?"

"It was only a planning meeting," Murderbot said. Then looking over at H511 they added, "We're planning a mural for the largest South Pier garden area. It will show diverse BioKin and BotKin planting together. You should join us, H511, if not to paint, then to model. Your name came up several times during our planning."

"I'm doing a self-portrait in the mural!" R2-D2 announced from the shelf. "Tamiro is going to help me practice painting and said any BotKin who's interested could join us."

When Madison was conspicuously silent, Carson asked, "Are you still going to help with the mural, Madison?"

"Sure," Madison said, shoving their mouth full of cheese roll exactly the way Rodney would to stop himself from saying something. Carson waited, giving them the chance to say more if they wanted.

Madison glared as if they knew exactly what he was doing and then said, "I missed part of the discussion because some guy was hitting on me. And I sort of told him off for being bigoted against bots." Then they bit their lip and added to Ronon, "And I kind of dropped your name as family when I said I was busy tonight. It seemed natural at the time, but now it all seems kind of weird."

Ronon's smile was big and full of teeth. "Give me his name, and I'll make sure he never bothers you again."

"I don't think that's necessary," Madison said.

Rodney waved a cheese roll as he said, "One glare is all it would take. Ronon wouldn't have to beat anyone up."

To Carson's great surprise, Murderbot said, "If I'm part of your family too, can I give you list of people who deserve to be glared at?"

"How long is this list?" Ronon set down his soup spoon with obvious concern.

"For you or for Madison?" John asked.

ArtSweeper, from up on the CatBot shelf said, "Should I mark warnings on their rooms?"

Murderbot glanced around the table slowly enough to show everyone they were looking and then said, "No one who eats needs to stop over this." Then to ArtSweeper they said, "You might want to consult with Dr. Kusanagi about the best ways to target future warnings that involve BioKin. I can set up another meeting if you want." Then after a brief glance shared with Madison, Murderbot replied to Ronon, "As was mentioned in passing last night, the BotKin started pooling information a couple days ago, after Madison was threatened. We found strong correlations between those spreading incorrect or hurtful information about bots, Dr. McKay, and Madison. While I cannot share much of what I learned with BioKin, due to training protocols, I have a list of people that I and other BotKin will be watching. I thought Ronon glaring at them, if he so chose, might discourage bad behavior. I am not proposing anyone be injured without clear cause."

"The person bothering Madison today was on your list?" Ronon asked. Carson could hear the threat underlying his lover's measured tone, and he wondered what Ronon would consider clear cause.

"Until he introduced himself in front of me, I only had a voice print from him speaking with the man who previously warned Madison. I was angry and irritated after he introduced himself, because he is not on the bot training list, so I cannot communicate with him directly."

"I'm sorry," Madison said. "I didn't want to talk to him. You saw how I suggested he just agree then and there, and then I moved away and ignored him. He followed me and tried to get me to go to dinner to 'persuade him' to sign up for bot training, and all that time you were right there, unable to say anything to him."

Murderbot rotated their upper body to face only Madison. "What you said to him at the end was probably more effective than anything I could have said. Without even having a voiceprint to warn you, your model of the threat and how to manage it seemed at least as good as mine. My models suggested it was better that I not engage directly. But I would have liked to have a choice about it."

#

For an instant, Madison wanted to hug Murderbot, even though that wasn't something either of them did. They struggled to find words to explain. "I didn't think to model what it was like for you in the moment. Even if I would mostly get things wrong, I feel bad for not thinking about it."

"I don't want to insult you, but you are human and multitasking is easier for me." Murderbot shrugged and said, "I'm sharing this now because I know you want the information. It is okay if you run your models differently and sometimes later than I do."

Still full of feelings they had no words to express, Madison said, "Wait here. I made something."

It was probably rude to do this in the middle of dinner, but Madison had used the metal etching machines in the CS-3 lab to etch the little metal ovals they'd purchased before the mural meeting. They'd planned to only bring them out tonight if gifting fit in with whatever ceremony Ronon had planned. Now they scooped up the little box they'd stored them in after etching and went back to the table.

Everyone was eating quietly, and Ronon's movements seemed conspicuously measured. Madison suspected Murderbot had agreed to give him names later, and Madison knew they'd ask to be told as well. Tomorrow. For now, having been the one who used Ronon's name as a veiled threat in the first place, it was reassuring to know he welcomed that role. Madison would never have named Rodney or a bot that way, but on this day, it had seemed like the best strategy to protect them all. They said to Ronon, "Sorry if this isn't how the evening was supposed to go. At all. But I saw these metal charm, or tags, or whatever at the market today. And there have been all these discussions about art. In particular, ArtSweeper tried to leave some BioKin picture messages today, to explain why their rooms were no longer being cleaned, which was kind of brilliant, except some people won't get it at all. Anyway, I had a symbol I used to sign my wall art with at Caltech. This afternoon I etched it onto these tags to give each of you, so you'll know that's my mark. And it's like you'll have a little bit of me you can hold onto. The first one has to be for Murderbot."

After all that build up, Madison felt a little ridiculous giving Murderbot a gift that was less than a centimeter in any dimension. But Murderbot took it between metal fingers with such care that Madison knew those fingertips brushed theirs on purpose. Murderbot's cameras zoomed in on the interlocking infinity symbols Madison had chosen years ago but still felt a sentimental attachment to.

"Thank you," Murderbot looked directly at Madison and said, "for the gift and for sharing another name for yourself."

Not wanting to turn away, Madison did squeeze their eyes shut briefly to keep from being overwhelmed. They trusted Murderbot would understand.

Then they opened their eyes, took a deep breath, and gave their metal tokens to the others in the room. They reached the bots on the shelf last and said, "You can let the other BotKin know I made enough for each of them, if they want."

R2-D2 said, "Thank you, I'll tell them."

ArtSweeper said, "I like your symbol and look forward to finding your art."

Lassie asked, "Would it be wrong to put it where a dog tag would go on my furry costume?"

Madison smiled and petted her metal back. "Whatever you want to do with it is fine. I think the idea is sweet."

#

When they'd all finished eating and cleared the table, Carson told Hanso, "Let's not worry about the kitchen for now."

Hanso rolled beside Carson in the easy way they had of offering support in case Carson needed it. Tonight, Carson gladly rested a hand on the bot as they both headed out to the living room where two glass panels had slid open, letting in a breeze off the balcony where they could see the sun setting. John and Rodney sat side by side on the sofa, leaning in where their shoulders met.

Madison had brought her beanbag out from Murderbot's room and settled by one corner of the sofa with Murderbot on their other side. Ronon had claimed the largest chair and said as Carson entered, "If I claim its Satedan tradition, will you sit in my lap for this?"

"As if I'm not basically in your lap when we share the lawn chair contraption every movie night." Carson sat on Ronon's knees, and the bigger man easily pulled him back until he was almost sideways across Ronon's lap.

"At least in Satedan theatre, this was a common position for offering proposals or declarations to an intimate partner, even in a public gathering." Ronon's arm around Carson's back gently nudged him closer, and Carson leaned his head against Ronon's leather vest at the shoulder. "Before we begin, I want to say that even on Sateda, a family did not always live in the same house or even the same town. But our language was based on large family houses or clusters of houses that were added onto as needed. So those who stayed or joined in were called 'family within the Dex.' Those who maintained ties but moved elsewhere were 'family among the Dex.' And those still early in life and deciding were called children of the Dex, even if they were in other contexts considered adults."

Madison nodded, as if they thought the last part was aimed at them, which it partially was.

Ronon displayed his left forearm in front of Carson with a smile. "These are basically the markings for a child of the Dex. A child of many years who has achieved specialist training among other steps in life, but a child nonetheless." He waved toward John and the armguard he wore that night. "The markings I gave John declare him an elder among the Dex. At the time of his fiftieth birthday, we were not yet sharing a dwelling, and unless this arrangement becomes more intentional and permanent, I think those markings fit best with our relationship in this society."

John nodded, and Carson wondered if there would be much less ceremony in what Ronon meant to do tonight than Carson had expected. Perhaps the presentation Ronon made on stage with John had been more for the wider audience that for tradition's sake.

Then Ronon placed a hand on the side of Carson's face that wasn't already resting against his shoulder. "But I waited to make any presentation to my dearest one. I knew what I felt then, but I wanted to be sure of how we fit together." Ronon gazed at him, bracing his head on both sides, arm wrapped around Carson as he sat sideways in Ronon's lap. To be held so intimately while called dearest and whatever more Ronon meant to say left Carson feeling incredibly exposed and protected, both at once.

He felt his face heating, and Ronon kissed his forehead. "Carson, you are my elder, my lover, and the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. You are family within the Dex in all ways. You define our family more than I do, because you draw people in. Before I knew you, I aspired to become an elder myself one day. But I no longer see that as something to aspire to. Through you, I see becoming an elder as a natural process, a change that happens because you care and have learned to see so many ways to help others. You listen and bring every other story you've heard or situation you've seen to the way you hear someone's words. You view yourself as part of a system that sometimes encompasses who you're welcoming and comforting at dinner and sometimes spans a whole galaxy as you seek to expand the Network of Healers. You are the most amazing person I've ever known, and by existing you offer others all that you've become on your path to being an elder."

Carson swallowed hard as the outer hand that had cupped his face pulled away. Perhaps Hanso had been carrying what Ronon needed for tonight, because Ronon's hand now held a soft rectangle of black leather with laces. "At a glance, this pattern shows you to be an elder within the Dex. But there are parts unique to this design that I created specifically for you. Our relationship is our own and does not need to be explained for others. I sought only to embed my own feelings for you in a permanent mark that you have the right to wear or keep in any way that you choose. The important part is that we mean to be in this relationship forever, however it may change us or we may change within it."

Carson wanted to say "I do" or have a speech of his own to give. He felt incredibly passive as Ronon shifted the arm holding him slightly and slipped the armguard around Carson's left forearm. As Ronon tightened the laces, Carson felt cared for and bound in a way he couldn't explain. Tears filled his eyes as Ronon finished tying and pulled Carson even closer to his chest. He was wrapped in a public embrace as Ronon said, "I love you. You don't need to say anything, just accept this and me."

Nodding against Ronon's neck, Carson managed to say so softly that no one else in the room could likely hear, "I love you, too. I love you so much."

After a very long silence and an even longer span of time when Carson had no idea what was happening around him in the room, Ronon began speaking again. "Despite my lack of markings, I have not been a child of the Dex for a long while. I did not anticipate there would be any more children of the Dex." He let out a snort of a laugh. "I didn't anticipate Carson or this household either."

By this point, Carson had himself together enough to turn properly sideways, allowing him to see the others. To his surprise, Rodney's pale skin showed he'd wiped away a few tears himself, and Data was now sitting on his knee. R2-D2 and Lassie had come to sit on Madison's lap, and ArtSweeper was sitting to one side, rather than on the now abandoned CatBot shelf.

"Changes," Ronon said. "I thought when we moved in that Hanso might be considered a child of the Dex, along with the other bots and Madison. Being named a child in this way is the opposite of insult. We took adult refugees into households this way at times, but it's hard for me to explain."

Hanso said, "May I try, for the BotKin at least?"

Ronon nodded, and Hanso said, "Ronon and Carson gave me a name. They shared private stories that I wasn't forbidden to share, but was expected to only share respectfully with family or those I believed needed to know or had shown enough caring to know. I was given the gift of deciding on my own behalf and theirs. I was also given a room with them, and I've found I don't want to give it up, even to explore other worlds. I have been told I could keep it to come back to if I did go away for a while. I am like a child in that I was given all this without being expected to give back and before I showed I understood what I was given. I am still working to understand better, but I want to stay and be part of this forever family. I share this to help others understand."

Both Madison and Murderbot nodded to Hanso. The smaller BotKin responded with lights or waved antennae.

That was when Ronon said, "Hanso, you've not only explained what we offer to children of the Dex better than I could, but I think you've demonstrated why I think you should be offered more. You have learned when and how to share what we give you and you've made it clear you want to stay indefinitely. I believe you are rightly family within the Dex." Ronon pulled a small rectangle of leather from his vest. "That's what these markings mean, and why I didn't have you carry this piece."

"Yes," Hanso said, rolling closer. "Thank you for this gift. I am happy you find my learning sufficient, but I will continue training always to better understand Satedan ways and our family. If this is like your tattoo, would it be okay to ask Madison to help etch my pattern onto metal for me?"

"It is yours to wear as you will," Ronon said as he handed the leather to Hanso and rested a hand on their chassis. "From what I saw, the etching does seem more like a tattoo for you."

"I'd be happy to help figure out the best process to suit you," Madison said.

"We have another gift for Hanso," Carson said as Ronon helped him to stand up. They'd agreed ahead of time that Carson would introduce this part. "It started with Ronon's idea. Then H511 made it better. If you'll all follow me around the balcony to the area outside Hanso's room…"

The sun had set while they were talking, but a shine in the West and a nearly full moon gave them plenty of light to walk outside. Hanso rolled by Carson's side with Ronon and H511 just behind them. When Hanso saw the planter boxes H511 had made and the plants Ronon and Carson had collected in various containers, Hanso flashed three lights excitedly. "I will grow herbs and flowers to share with BioKin, and I recognize some of the healing plants Taran and others have taught me about. I wonder if I could help paint the garden mural to show me and some of these plants."

By the time Hanso finished speaking, the others had all caught up and crowded together on Hanso's balcony.

"Will you come to Tamiro's painting lesson with me?" R2-D2 asked.

"I will," Hanso said. "I have so much to learn."

#

As the group drifted back to their living room and the portion of balcony they all shared, Madison saw Ronon going from bot to bot, speaking with each before giving them their marks on small rectangles of leather. When he reached Madison, he produced a larger piece, a couple of inches wide and at least four long, with leather ties on the short ends. The pattern of alternating light and dark triangles matched Ronon's arm, but with only four rows.

"Madison," he said, "I would like to welcome you as a child of the Dex if you are willing."

"I am, thank you," Madison said, looking up toward Ronon's face but unable to meet his eyes in the moment. While they knew some people would object to the term child or to being placed in a group in which everyone else was a BotKin, it felt honest and right to Madison.

"I know you don't always like to be touched. Would it work for me to tie this on your wrist or not?" he asked softly.

"Everything about this is alright," Madison said, holding out their left arm. They actually wanted to be touched tonight. Ronon's warm hands wrapped the leather around and then carefully pulled the laces, keeping mostly where Madison could see them the whole time. As he slipped a finger under the laces to check the tightness Ronon said, "I will try not to act like a parent or an elder without being asked. I know you are an adult and very capable. But I'm glad you felt comfortable naming me as family and trusting I'd stand up for you when someone gave you trouble. I will. And you should know I have done so in the past for every other BioKin in this household, regardless of age, although I'm not sure John knows about it." Ronon added that last in a whisper, and it made Madison smile. "I'm also happy to listen. To anything. I don't know how touch works for you, but I give good hugs and back rubs if you ever want that. And I hope you know I will always be safe for you. You can trust me."

"Can I hug you now?" Madison asked, trying not to sound like a child in an Earth sense but only as a child of the Dex.

"I'd like that," Ronon said. Then he held his arms out to his sides and let Madison initiate the hug. If he took his cues on how to hug back from Madison's body language, he did it well. He held tight enough that they knew exactly where his arms were on their back without feeling at all trapped. And he let them hold on long enough to settle and feel safe.

When they went back to their seat along with everyone else, Madison noticed that Murderbot's armband was the same size and worn in the same place as Madison's. Holding their wrist beside Murderbot's they said, "In a way, this makes us siblings."

With a tilt of their head, Murderbot said, "I like that."

#

It hadn't escaped Rodney's notice that he was the last one to be recognized as family. He didn't expect he'd be forgotten, and it wasn't like being chosen last for a team. Still. He felt a little lost as he and John reclaimed their places on the sofa. Rodney sat by the inside corner, nearest Madison. John plopped down beside him like a careless mess, but his arm ended up behind Rodney's shoulders, and the warmth of his body along Rodney's side nicely blocked the chill breeze from outside.

Then Data climbed back onto Rodney's knee, where he'd been sitting before, but now he had a ridiculous scrap of leather with the short end stretched between his antennae while the rest lay like a tiny cape or garment tag on his metal back.

Rodney refrained from making a joke about it, with all the restraint people didn't realize he had.

Then everyone was back in their places, except for Carson, who had his own chair now, which he pulled up directly in front of Rodney. "I hope you won't mind if I do this part instead of Ronon," Carson said.

Rodney didn't know how he felt about his part being different, but at least he'd worry less about screwing up with Carson. "Of course, we both want to recognize you as an elder, and we do know you're wise as well as intelligent, even if the world and you yourself may not always acknowledge that." Carson leaned forward as if talking to Rodney alone; the rest of the room could listen or not. "You're my oldest friend, and I don't know if I would still be here if it weren't for you." They both knew he meant more than here on Atlantis, but he didn't need to spell it out. "To me, coming back here was coming home, and it wouldn't have been home without you. So while I don't know if we'll all stay living in this same household, I believe so long as we're both on Atlantis or within easy reach of a Gate, we will continue to share meals and time the way I want my household to be. Ronon agrees, and he made your markings to show you as my chosen brother and an elder within the Dex."

Not knowing what to say, Rodney asked a bit too honestly, "Is that like promising you won't leave me again?"

Carson nodded with tears in his eyes. Ronon knelt beside him in an instant, placing a hand on Carson's knee and holding out a black armguard much like John's, but with an extra outline around the top row of triangles. "Let me tie this on?" Ronon asked.

Rodney nodded and held out his arm.

As Ronon tied fast but not too tight he said, "Makes you basically my brother-in-law. Not that it's news to me, but it might be too you. Welcome to the Dex."

"Huh," Rodney felt his face smiling and his arm lifting as if everything were strangely light all of a sudden. "Thanks," he said to Ronon. "And thank you Carson. I don't say it much and I didn't make you an armband or a charm or anything, but I like the idea of being your brother and coming over to eat and talk forever."

Carson wiped his eyes and said, "Good. We made chocolate fondue for tonight."

Rodney leaned forward to hug him, partially dragging Data and John with him. And it wasn't about the chocolate. He trusted Carson to know what he meant.

The End


End file.
